Neville Rebuilt
by miznik
Summary: Seriously depressed after the war, Neville Longbottom finds love and comfort from an unexpected source, only to find he needs to give comfort and love in return. Slash - don't read if that's a problem. Rated M for later chapters. Chapter 12 & complete
1. Chapter 1

Neville Longbottom was seriously depressed.

In the nine months since Voldemort had fallen, Neville had become something of a hero. When Harry Potter's entire story had gotten out, people suddenly realized what Neville had accomplished by getting the Sword of Gryffindor and using it on Nagini, the snake and final horcrux. Neville became famous, his name now forever linked with Hermione Granger's and Ron Weasley's as the people from whom Potter received help in his vanquishing of Voldemort; as someone who would never have gone to the dark side, even under threat of torture.

And Neville, suddenly and without warning, found himself with more fame than he had ever dreamed. He had fan letters, interview requests, job offers, book deals. You name it, Neville could have it.

But Neville didn't want any of it. Those things came at a cost of countless lives and accepting any of those would have been taking advantage of a horrible situation.

So what did he want? Neville didn't know. He wanted to stay locked up in his room at his Gran's house until the fervor died down, refusing to see anyone. His Gran didn't know how to treat him these days. She skulked around his bedroom every morning, trying to get him to get out of bed, at least take a nice walk down the street. Trying to get him to agree to the interview The Prophet kept asking for. At one point, Gran had tried to trick Neville into drinking a cheering potion. When Neville, who was never as bad in Potions as Snape had thought, realized what it was, he knocked it out of Gran's hand and yelled at her to go away. Neville had never been a boy who yelled at people. But that is the type of man he was turning in to.

Neville was obviously suffering from guilt. All survivors of a war are likely to end up with some form of survivor's guilt, of course. And Neville did feel guilty, tremendously so, at having survived such a harrowing ordeal. But Neville's guilt was two-fold. He felt guilty about surviving and knowing his family had survived intact. Well, unless you count his parents, still stuck in the mental unit at St. Mungo's. His elderly Gran fought in the war and survived. His uncles lived. His closest friends were still here. He felt guilty at the lack of loss he had to endure, when little Teddy Lupin lost his muggle-born Grandfather for whom he was named and both of his parents, when the Creevy parents were going to have to deal with life without their brave son, Colin.

The other part of Neville's guilt is knowing about all that loss, and knowing that somehow, the war had made his life better. If you think fame is something better. If you think having respect from the wizarding world is better. That was the reason Neville didn't want to have anything to do with the offers and letters and deals coming his way. Because he couldn't bear to live a good happy life at the cost of other human lives.

And so he spent his days locked away in his bedroom. Trying to write in a journal, but being unable to put his feelings into words. He stared at the ceiling. He refused to see Harry, Ron, Hermione and Luna when they came calling, which happened a lot at the beginning, but was becoming less frequent. He refused to use magic, even a simple summoning charm to get a dropped quill. Sometimes, late at night, when the insomnia would get unbearable, he'd take a walk. Breathing the fresh air, and hating himself for enjoying it, for needing it when Tonks and Lupin and all the others couldn't enjoy it.

One day, Neville had no choice but to get out of the house, during the daytime. It was nearing his Uncle's birthday and Neville knew there was only one place to get his joke-loving Uncle a gift- Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. It would have been much easier if the joke-shop had still been an owl-order business. But they were beyond that now.

They. Well, it isn't 'they' anymore, is it? Neville realized with a lurch that he was going to have to see George Weasley for the first time since the war. He was going to have to see George without his identical twin and partner in crime, Fred, by his side: a sight that Neville had never seen.

Neville dressed slowly that morning, dreading what he had to do. He slowly descended the stairs into the kitchen where Gran was cooking breakfast.

"Neville!" she exclaimed, surprised to see him up and about, particularly at this hour.

"I need to go to Diagon Alley, Gran. Do we have floo powder?" Neville said, ignoring the huge smile on Gran's face.

"Have some breakfast first, Neville." She waved her wand at the cabinet and a plate came flying out, landing softly on the table in front of Neville. Gran then waved her wand at the food on the stove and a fried egg flew out of the pan onto the plate. The toaster popped, Gran waved her wand and the toast landed next to the egg. Neville watched with mild interest. Gran had been bringing him his food on a tray in his bedroom, and Neville had started to forget what it looked like when food was being prepared.

"Where are you off to?" Gran asked, as she cracked another egg for herself. Neville could tell that Gran was trying not to seem too eager, too happy, that he was up and about.

"The Weasley twins' shop. Or George Weasley's shop that it. For a gift."

"Ah," Gran said with a smile. "Do you need some money?"

"No," Neville answered, "I'm good." He patted his pocket, jingling the galleons and sickles so Gran could hear.

Neville began wolfing down the eggs and toast. He went to the refrigerator and got out a bottle of pumpkin juice, grabbed a glass from the cabinet and began to pour.

Gran frowned. "You can't use your wand to do that?"

"Is there a problem with doing things the muggle way?" Neville asked. His voice was mild, but there was a hint of warning in it. A hint of something that suggested that he could run right back up to his bedroom and hide under the covers for another six months. He leaned on the counter and drained the juice in one large gulp.

"Of course not." Gran answered quickly. She held up her wand. "Accio Floo Powder!" The small sack of powder came in from the front room into Gran's hand. She held the sack out to Neville. "Do you want any company?" Her voice sounded both sad and hopeful.

"No. I can manage." Neville shoved the last bit of egg into his mouth, wiped his face, and kissed his Gran goodbye.

He took the powder from Gran and walked to the fireplace. He took a pinch of the powder out of the sack and threw it on the flames. Once they turned green, he stepped in and said, "Diagon Alley!"

A few seconds later, he was in Diagon Alley. He walked down the street, surprised at how different Diagon Alley looked since the last time he was here, when Voldemort's reign of terror was at its zenith and the alley was grey and dreary with more shops closed than opened. But now, stores were open again. People were bustling up and down the street, calling cheerful hellos to each other. The sun was shining and Diagon Alley had never looked more beautiful. And Neville just wanted to turn around and go back home.

Neville stuck his hands into his pocket and wandered down the street, noticing with a start that Ollivander's wand shop was open for business. As he walked by, the door opened and a blond streak ran toward him, grabbing him around the waist and hugging him hard.

"Neville!" cried Luna Lovegood as she looked up at Neville with her wide happy eyes. "You're out!"

Neville gave Luna a small smile. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm apprenticing with Mr. Ollivander." She smiled. "He says I have the mind of a great wand-maker. So I've been spending every other weekend working in his shop and I'll be taking over the shop after I graduate Hogwarts this year."

"That's great Luna. Really. How is Mr. Ollivander doing?"

"Oh, not well. He's very ill, you know. He's never quite recovered from his time as Voldemort's prisoner. That's why he asked me to apprentice. Daddy's a bit disappointed because we were supposed to go on a trek after I graduated to search for the crumple-horned snorkack. But he understands. He'll be very proud to have a wand-maker in the family."

Neville had to smile internally at Luna's ability to hop from topic to topic in just a few short sentences.

Neville leaned down and kissed Luna on the cheek. She turned bright red. "I've got to go now, Luna. I have an errand to run. But let's get together soon, OK?"

"Yes, definitely," Luna smiled at him. "It's great to see you out, Neville. People have been asking after you. I never knew what to tell them."

Neville smiled sadly, wondering if he should say anything to Luna about what he'd been feeling. Instead, he held up his hand and gave her a small wave. Luna waved back. Neville turned and started toward Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, which he could easily see from blocks away.

When he got there, Neville stood in front of the building looking at it. The window displays were just as colorful and dazzling as ever. Neville was transfixed for a few minutes. Then he took a deep breath.

He opened the door and walked in the shop.


	2. Chapter 2

When Neville walked into the shop, he was shocked by the color, the sounds, the lights surrounding him. He had grown accustomed to his somewhat drab bedroom in his Gran's ancient house all these months. He began to feel dizzy as all the color and bright objects seemed to press in on him. The colors in front of him swam and turned dark as his chest constricted and he gasped for breath. Neville closed his eyes and squatted to the floor, head in hands, before he could pass out. He was trying to take a deep breath, but not quite succeeding in getting a breath in at all.

He heard a voice, which sounded far away, "Sir, are you OK?" He heard footsteps running toward him and someone grabbed his shoulder. "Neville? Is that you?"

Neville turned his head and looked up at the blurred figure next to him. He could make out the red hair. As he regained his breath, Ron Weasley came into clear view. "Ron?" Neville asked weakly.

"It's me," Ron said as he helped Neville back to his feet. "Are you all right?"

"I'm OK now," Neville laughed shakily. "I just..." he stopped for a moment, unsure of what to say. "I just got a bit dizzy."

"Come to the back and sit down," Ron took Neville's arm and led him through the bright shop to the back, through a door, and into a small office stocked with paperwork. He pointed to a chair behind a desk, and Neville sat obediently, breathing deeply and clearing his head.

"Sorry 'bout that," Neville said, suddenly a bit embarrassed.

"No worries." Ron stared at Neville, appraising him. Ron took out his wand, and waved it, conjuring up a glass of water, which he handed to Neville. "How've you been? It's been a while since anyone has seen you."

Neville nodded and took a deep drink of water before speaking. "I haven't felt like being out and about." He refused to look Ron in the eye, instead stared at a thread coming loose from his sleeve. He picked at the thread, "I mean, it's been a little rough."

Ron nodded, "I know." He sounded like he wanted to say something else, but shut his mouth and looked to the side.

"I'm sorry about Fred."

Ron smiled tightly and nodded again. "Thanks," he said, his voice shaking slightly.

"How's George?"

Ron shrugged. "Terrible, if you ask me. He has his days where he seems fine, and days when he struggles to get out of bed. He's always in bed. He sleeps half the day." Neville frowned and Ron continued, "The worst part is that he's kind of gone off humor. Like without Fred, he's just not as, I don't know...funny. That's why I'm here. I'm helping out at the store for a year, to help George cope and get back on his feet. The store is still doing really well. I mean, people are just craving this type of stuff after the last few years. But all the product is the same as it was last year. George hasn't been inventing new things since Fred-" he broke off again.

"I'm sorry to hear that." Neville didn't know what else to say. He felt the familiar pull of guilt in his stomach, realizing that he hadn't been able to get out of bed for six months for his own sense of self-pity, and George Weasley was at least making an attempt. It made him want to go right back home and crawl back in to bed.

They were both quiet for a moment then sound of the store's front door opening jolted them both. "I better go up there. You can sit here until you feel better. Don't go, OK?"

"I'll stay," Neville said.

Ron left and Neville looked around the office. He noticed a large stack of boxes against one wall and was surprised to see that they were full of canary-creams. Neville had to hold back a smile remembering that he had been the first one that Fred and George had tricked into eating one, causing him to sprout yellow feathers all over his body.

"Neville Longbottom!" Said a voice from the doorway. Neville turned around and saw George Weasley standing there.

Neville smiled, "Hi George!" He tried his hardest not to stare at the hole where George's ear had been. Obviously he wasn't successful, because George turned his head so the hole was facing Neville.

"Fancy a better look?" he asked, grinning.

Neville wrinkled his nose, "Uh, no thanks." He pointed to the boxes, "overstocked with canary creams?"

"Nah," George said. "We had to pull them off the shelves."

"What? Why?"

George sighed. "There were some complaints. Remember how you shed your feathers within minutes of sprouting them?"

Neville nodded. George continued, "Well, evidently not everyone's body is so compliant. Some people were stuck with feathers for days and had to get them removed at St. Mungo's. So, until we find something that can get the feathers off people, we can't sell them." George shrugged, "What are you going to do?"

Neville brightened. "Have you ever heard of _amorilios pennatenta_?"

"What's that?"

"It's a plant. A yellow-leafy plant with white blooms. People who own pet birds use it to help birds who have a difficult time moulting. You know, some birds have leftover feathers that can get stuck and it can be painful. So these bird owners feed the leaves to the birds and it helps the moulting process go smoother. You could try using it as an antidote and selling it with each cream. I mean, you'd have to test it, but the plant isn't poisonous for humans."

George grabbed a quill and some parchment. "What's it called again?"

"Amorilios pennatenta. More commonly called Yellow Ivy, but that's a misnomer. It's not really part of the ivy family."

"Where can I get some?"

"I have it growing in my garden. Or rather, I did. I'm not sure how well Gran's been keeping it up. But yellow ivy is pretty hearty, so it might have survived even if she hasn't."

George looked up from his parchment curiously. "Why haven't you been working in your garden?"

Neville shrugged. "I just haven't felt up to it."

George nodded. He grabbed Neville by the shoulder and faced him. George looked like he wanted to say something, but instead patted Neville's shoulder and turned around. "We've all been struggling," he said quietly.

"I know it," Neville said. "I'm sorry," he looked down at his feet.

"What are you sorry for?" George asked sharply.

Neville shrugged again. "I should be handling things better. I," his voice broke off and he took a deep breath. "I've been unable to do anything. I've barely been able to get out of bed. I've barely been able to sleep. I shouldn't be feeling so bloody sorry for myself."

George sighed, "Don't be sorry. Everyone handles things in their own way. I don't even know how to describe how I handle it. I never know how I'm going to feel from one day to the next. From one minute to the next, really."

At that moment, Ron walked back in to the office and George changed the subject, his voice sounding more upbeat. "So Neville, can I buy some yellow ivy off you?"

"I'll bring you some next week, if I have it. If not, I'll bring some seedlings and show you how to grow it indoors. It should be usable within three months. But you don't need to buy it, if you need it, it's yours." Neville stood up, feeling surprisingly better. "Well, I came here to get something for my Uncle Algie."

George and Ron followed Neville out to the store front. Neville wandered around looking at items as Ron gave a play by play on what everyone's been doing. Neville was more than happy to let Ron do all the talking as he picked up various items, sneaking sideways glances at George. Once, he caught George looking back.

Ron droned on, "Hermione went back to Hogwarts to finish her seventh year. Harry and I decided not to. We both got in to the Auror training program without it, but we both decided to take a year off. I needed to help out here. Oh Neville, here're those invisible head hats, I bet your uncle would love that! And Harry's doing this weird traveling thing. He's trying to find wizards he's related to or something, you know he's got all these family issues, being an orphan and with Sirius dying, so he's doing this world-wide genealogy search. He said something once about making peace with that horrible muggle cousin of his. Oh, and Luna is working for Mr. Ollivander and learning wand-lore and wand-making. Ginny's finishing up at Hogwarts this year. She's the quidditch captain and the Holyhead Harpies are interested in her. Um, what else? Oh yeah, Bill and Fleur are going to have a baby in a few months. Our mum is going bonkers over having a grandchild. She wants like twenty grandchildren or something."

Neville listened to all this, with just an "mmm-hmm," or an "oh yeah?" placed here and there. It was kind of interesting, finally hearing what everyone else has been up to. But he was really concentrating on Uncle Algie's gift and on George following him.

Ron continued, "Next weekend is a Hogsmeade weekend for the Hogwarts students. Harry and I were going to go and meet up with Ginny and Hermione. Why don't you come along?"

"Really?" Neville asked. "But I can't apparate there. I never took my exam."

Ron scrunched his face up, "why not?" When Neville didn't say anything and blushed, Ron continued, "Oh well, that's fine. Just meet me here and I can take you side-along."

"You sure?" Neville asked. Neville himself wasn't sure if he was ready for a day at Hogsmeade.

"Definitely," Ron said enthusiastically.

"Well, all right then. I'll come by here on Saturday, drop off the plant for George, and we can go."

"Sounds good, mate!" Ron slapped Neville on the back. "It's good to see you again." Ron walked off to help another customer.

George watched Ron walk away, then turned to Neville. "You don't have to go if you don't feel like it. People would understand. Everyone who fought last year, we're all just," his voice drifted off and he stared in to space. "We're all just taking it day by day."

"It's fine. Really." Neville said to George. "I can always leave early. It'll probably be good to see people again." As he said it, he wasn't sure he was ready.

George nodded. "So, do you want that hat?" he asked Neville, who was holding one of the hats that Fred and George had invented. When you put it on your head, your head (and only your head) became invisible.

"Yeah, I'll take it," Neville held it out to George.

"Take it then. No payment necessary." George smiled widely at Neville.

Neville shook his head. "No. I can't not pay for it."

"OK then. It costs one yellow ivy plant. I'll put it on your tab." Neville smiled back at George, suddenly feeling a little bit shy. George grabbed on to Neville's elbow, "Listen, I'm glad you were feeling well enough to come in here. If you need it, we can talk whenever you want. My flat upstairs, is connected to the floo network."

Neville stared at his elbow, encased in George's freckled hand. "I wasn't feeling well enough at first. But I'm feeling much better now that I've come in."

Another customer walked in to the shop and George dropped Neville's arm. "See you next weekend." He winked at Neville as he turned away to help the customer.

As Neville walked out of the door, he thought to himself, 'Did George Weasley really just wink at me?'


	3. Chapter 3

Neville spent much of the following week feeling somewhat better. He tended his plants in the garden and in the small greenhouse his Gran had built for him a few years ago. Gran had made an admirable attempt at keeping up the garden, but the greenhouse was another matter altogether.

The majority of the greenhouse plants were completely dead, unable to be revived with any means of magic or water. It depressed Neville to throw away some of the plants that he had tended so lovingly in what felt like another lifetime. Though a small part of Neville was hopeful that all new plants would signify an all new beginning.

He was relieved that he was able to find that some of his yellow ivy was growing strong. It was already November, and it had thankfully had been a mild one so far. He was able to get a few good cuttings for George. He planted them in a small box that could be easily carried through the floo network and put it on the windowsill of his bedroom until Saturday. At times he found himself staring at the plant and thinking about George, wondering what George was doing, how he was feeling.

Nights were still bad. Neville was still suffering from serious bouts of insomnia. The good feelings left over from the day would quickly dissipate as the sun set and Neville would find himself, once again, lying in bed staring at the ceiling with visions of the bodies of Tonks, Lupin, Colin Creevy, Fred Weasley, and all the others running through his mind. When staring at the ceiling got tiresome, Neville would turn to his side, staring at the wall or to his other side and stare at his bedroom door. And when that didn't help him sleep, he'd hold his pillow over his face until his chest burned and he couldn't take it anymore. Then he'd remove the pillow gasping for air. Eventually, he would give up and go downstairs, take a walk and clear his mind. Generally speaking, he would get back in to bed just before dawn, fall asleep and manage less than four hours before waking for breakfast.

On Friday night, the night before he was to go to Hogsmeade with Ron, Neville asked Gran if she could make him a sleeping potion. Looking at her grandson's face, gaunt from six months of grappling with demons and with dark puffy circles under his pleading eyes, she couldn't say no. She wasn't a fan of sleeping potions, believing that they cured a symptom, rather than a cause of sleeplessness. Nevertheless, she was wise enough to know that only time would cure the causes of Neville's sleeplessness and in the meantime, if he needed a little assistance in getting some decent sleep every now and then, well, she wasn't going to deprive him. Besides, watching him work in the garden and in the greenhouse, she felt sure that he was on the mend and very soon he wouldn't need any help falling asleep.

So on that Friday evening, not quite dusk, Neville lay in bed and Gran brought him a draught of the potion. Neville drank it, and within minutes was consumed by glorious, dreamless, visionless sleep. A sleep like he had never had before.

Saturday came, crisp and cool but with the sun shining brightly. Neville awoke from a nine hour sleep, feeling as refreshed as he could remember feeling in over a year. Even prior to the war, he had been having trouble sleeping; fear coupled by those hammocks in the room of requirement at Hogwarts had not been conducive to a long night's rest.

He sat up in bed, yawned, stretched and moved his head in circles, working out the kinks that had found their way into his neck. He noticed his plant sitting on his window and he stood up immediately. Today was the day. He was going to bring the plant to George. And go in to Hogsmeade. But first, George and the plant.

Neville dressed quickly and went downstairs. Gran was preparing breakfast, and she smiled at him.

"Good sleep?" she asked.

"The best," Neville leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks for the potion Gran."

"You needed it." She slipped the eggs out of the pan onto a plate that already had toast and melon slices. She handed the plate to Neville.

He began wolfing down his food. "I'm going back to Diagon Alley today," he was saying to Gran. "I'm bringing some plants to George Weasley, who might need them for one of his products. Then I'm going with Ron to Hogsmeade. We're meeting Harry, Ginny and Hermione."

"That's really great, Neville. I'm so glad to see you getting out." She was positively beaming at him.

They ate in companionable silence until both plates were clean. Neville walked his plate to the sink and began rinsing it.

"Go," said Gran, waving her hand at him. "I'll clean up. You go meet your friends."

Neville ran upstairs, brushed his teeth and checked out his reflection in the mirror. Certainly he had looked better. But he didn't think he looked terrible. Neville appraised his hair, now grown out to nearly his shoulders. He ran his fingers through it, thinking he might keep it long. He only had one visible scar on his cheek, from the abuse at the hands of the Carrows. He rubbed his finger over it and sighed, he remembered all too well having his arms bound and being punched by Amycus who was wearing a sharp ring with the dark mark on it. Neville knew about the other scars, the ones on his back. But to anyone looking right at him, they'd only see the tiny scar on his cheek. Say what you want about the Carrows, they'd had the brains at least to leave most of Neville's physical scars where they'd be covered by clothing, to say nothing of his emotional scars.

_______

"George?" Neville called as he walked into Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

The door to the rear office opened, and George Weasley walked out. He smiled broadly as he noticed it was Neville. It was still quite early in the morning, and Neville was the only one in the store. George motioned Neville to come back, and Neville followed him.

In the small office, Neville put the box of yellow ivy on the desk, and with a small flourish of his hands, said, "Here it is! Yellow ivy."

"Brilliant," George said. 'How does it work?"

Neville shrugged. "I've no idea what to do for humans. But people who use it for the birds take off the leaves and grind them up and put it into the bird food. So, I guess you just try to use the leaves. Who're you going to test it on?"

George looked at him like he was crazy. "Myself, of course. Fred and I always tried things out on each other first." Neville didn't say anything for a moment, thinking about Fred, and George continued, "Course now I'll need someone else there. You know, in case something goes wrong. How 'bout it Neville?" George smirked a little, and when he did, Neville's heart began to pound.

"You want me to test this with you?" he asked, eyes widening just a fraction.

"Sure." George was still smiling broadly, looking Neville directly in his eyes. "Someone's got to. Ron doesn't trust me. Something about being raised with me and knowing me too well to trust me." Neville laughed weakly and George went on, "But you, Neville. You don't know the half of what I'm capable of."

And on that note, Neville answered, "Sure. I'll help you test this stuff out." He was anxious to see the half of what George was capable of.

"Excellent," George said, rubbing his hands together. "Let's get started."

He had barely gotten the words out of his mouth, when Ron came bounding down from the upstairs flat. He was jamming a piece of toast in his mouth.

"Hey, Neville," he said, crumbs flying out of his mouth. He held up a finger as he finished chewing. Finally he swallowed the last bit, "Ready to go?"

"Oh, uh. Yeah." He had temporarily forgotten about Hogsmeade, and his anxiety about going suddenly returned. He turned to George, "I'll stop back by later today. Before I head home."

George nodded and pressed a small bag into Neville's hand. "Floo powder. For when you get sick of sitting around watching him," he pointed to Ron, "and Hermione arguing and Harry and Ginny snogging. Then you can come back to me."

Neville nodded, not taking his hand away from George's. George also let his hand linger in Neville's before taking it away. Neville couldn't wait to come back to George.

Ron held out his elbow and Neville tucked the bag of floo powder into his pocket and grabbed onto Ron's elbow. In a second he was pressing through darkness before appearing in the center of Hogsmeade.

"Ron! Neville!" called an excited voice. They both turned around to see Hermione Granger running toward them, her brown bushy hair being swept by the combination of wind and her running. Ron held out his arms, but Hermione ran right past him and enveloped Neville in a mammoth hug. Ron scowled.

Tears were leaking out of Hermione's eyes. "Neville. We've missed you." She lowered her voice to a whisper, "What have you been doing?" she demanded.

Neville gripped Hermione a little harder, "Wallowing," he whispered into her ear, "but don't tell anyone. Let them think I've been off having fantastic adventures."

Hermione sniffed and gave a shaky laugh, still not letting go of him. "Are you all right?" she asked, her voice filled with concern and she let her finger run quickly over the scar on Neville's cheek.

Neville's heart broke. Hermione's touch felt comforting, like she was blessing him in friendship. "I'm getting there," he assured her.

Finally they broke apart. Neville looked around, Harry and Ginny were walking quickly towards them, hand in hand, both smiling widely.

Neville hugged both of them, exchanging greetings and hellos. The group made its way toward the Three Broomsticks, which, at this time of morning, wasn't quite packed with students the way it would be around lunchtime. Neville thought vaguely of the Hog's Head and thought he needed to go visit Aberforth at some point.

They got a table together in the corner and Hermione went to the bar to order butterbeers for everyone. Neville was having a nice time, enjoying a relaxed conversation. He couldn't quite make himself feel comfortable though. He wondered at how Harry Potter had been able to get up in the mornings, after all, Harry had faced worse than he, Neville, had. Harry lost his Godfather and several good friends, Remus, Tonks and Fred namely. And yet he managed to deal with his loss better. Neville sighed and wondered about the ways people deal with trauma.

George wasn't kidding that Ron and Hermione's relationship was built on bickering or that Harry and Ginny couldn't keep their hands off each other. Even as he was explaining to Neville about the historical research he was undertaking of every witch and wizard buried in the graveyard in Godric's Hollow, Harry found a way to be in constant physical contact with Ginny, holding her hand, or wrapping his arm possessively around her, or even fiddling with the ends of her hair. Maybe that was it. Maybe it was that passion for another person that motivated Harry out of bed in the mornings.

After about ten minutes, Luna Lovegood walked in. "Luna!" said Hermione "Come sit over here." Hermione made a point of shifting her body to clear a space right next to Neville.

"Hello, Neville," Luna said. "How are you feeling?"

"A bit better this week, Luna." Neville smiled. "How are you?"

"Oh you know. Things are basically the same."

Hermione interjected, "Neville, did you know that Luna was named prefect? And that she's gotten top marks in Herbology?"

Neville raised his eyebrows. "Really? Well, that's very impressive," he said politely.

"Luna," Hermione persisted, "You know Neville's always had a special interest in Herbology."

"Yes, I know," Luna said serenely. She turned to Neville, "I think Hermione wants us to have a conversation about Herbology, Neville."

Everyone at the table laughed as Hermione's face turned pink. Even Neville had to laugh, though it was obvious what Hermione was doing, and it made him slightly uncomfortable. She really wanted him and Luna to get together. Then they could be a little six-pack, Three adorable doting couples. But it wasn't going to happen. Luna isn't his type.

Neville sighed, and Luna turned toward him. "Let's go sit at the bar."

They got up, Neville noticing Hermione's delighted face as they did so. Neville brought his butter beer, and he chivalrously ordered another one for Luna as they took a couple of bar stools as far away from the table as possible.

"I think Hermione wants us to be a couple," Luna said in the same blunt way that she always has. Her uncensored observations made some people uncomfortable, but Neville always found it charming and delightful. Luna had the quality of making people feel that they could be, that they _should_ be, completely honest around her, and it usually made for some interesting conversation.

"You may be right," Neville said. He hooked one finger around the neck of his bottle and peered with one eye into the dregs of his butterbeer. " But don't be offended if I don't ask you out on a date, all right?"

"Oh, I'm not offended. I already know you're gay." Luna said simply.

Neville put his bottle down with a thud and turned to her, "How could you _possibly_ know that? I've never told anyone."

Luna smiled at him. "You didn't have to tell me for me to know. I just pay attention to my friends. I noticed you never look twice at pretty girls. But you do look twice at the handsome boys. Sometimes more than twice."

Neville chuckled. "Well, that's very observant of you. Do you think anyone else has noticed?" He tried to sound non-chalant.

"Oh, no. Hermione wouldn't pick up on it unless she's recently read a book called _How to Tell a Wizard is Gay_ or something. She's smart, but she lacks a bit of perspicacity. And Ron and Harry...well, you know straight boys are just a little thick. Deep down, Ginny might know. But she doesn't stop to think about anything but Harry and quidditch. That's pretty much all she thinks about anymore."

"Yeah," Neville nodded. "God. Look at those two." They both looked at Harry and Ginny for a moment, canoodling in the corner booth, while Ron and Hermione quietly snipped at each other. Neville looked away when he saw Ginny's hand disappear under the table toward Harry's lap.

"Harry lent Ginny his invisibility cloak and the Marauder's Map. She sneaks out of school a couple nights a week and meets Harry at a room above the Hog's Head." Luna said, still staring at the two of them.

"Really?" Neville was fascinated by this bit of information. He'd gotten quite close to Ginny in his seventh year. The two of them had been favorite targets of the Carrows, who were convinced that Ginny or Neville had to know where Harry Potter was. He turned to look at Luna, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Harry and Ginny stand up. He looked back toward them and they walked out of the Three Broomsticks, with a wave to Neville and Luna. Neville smiled and waved back. Good for Ginny. Though Neville contemplated whether or not to tell George.

George. Neville really wanted to get back to him. "I hope you're not offended if I leave now, Luna."

"You're not going off to get depressed again, are you?" Luna asked. Even her questions had a stab-you-in-the-gut type of honesty.

"I'm not," he shook his head. "I'm going to go help George Weasley with something."

"Oh, that's nice," Luna drained her butter beer. "Tell George I said hello. I'm going to the shrieking shack. I think there's a colony of young wrackspurts around there. I want to find them."

Neville said goodbye to Luna and kissed her on the cheek.

For the first time in a while, when Neville walked, he didn't feel a pressing weight on his shoulders.


	4. Chapter 4

1 The shop was crowded with weekend shoppers when Neville got back. George was at the counter, ringing up some purchases, but noticed right away when Neville walked through the door. He waved his hand and held up a finger, asking Neville to wait a moment.

Neville wandered around the shop, stopping to smile at the memories some of the products brought back, skiving snack boxes, pygmy puffs and the like. Neville noticed that Angelina Johnson was behind the counter, helping George. He wondered if there was anything between the two. Though Neville thought it wasn't likely as he remembered Angelina and Fred being quite close and having an occasional snog in the darkest corner of the Gryffindor common room.

It took about twenty minutes for the crowd at the counter to die down. George came from behind the counter, "Neville! Back already?"

Neville nodded. "I said my hellos, but there wasn't much for me to do there."

George grinned widely. "Let's go," and he motioned Neville to follow him to the back of the store and to the office. But when they got there, George grabbed the yellow ivy and began walking up the stairs to the flat. "Angelina can watch the store for a bit."

"How is Angelina?" Neville asked, hoping to get some information out of George about the nature of his relationship with her.

George shrugged. "All right. She's been a sport, coming here and helping me out when Ron can't."

That wasn't really the information Neville was looking for, but he decided to drop it. He followed George up the narrow staircase.

At the top of the staircase was a door with an old-fashioned lock. George obviously kept the place unlocked, as he turned the doorknob and the door swung open. Neville walked in and looked around. He entered immediately into a large square room. There was a caddy-cornered fireplace, with a few embers still burning. One long overstuffed red sofa was in front of the fireplace. The majority of the rest of the room was taken up with a large work table, piled high with bits of...well it looked like junk. Some dead plants, some dried up beetles, doxy droppings, pieces of felt, small empty capsules, paperwork and numerous other bits and pieces. All of it was covered by a thin layer of dust, suggesting to Neville that Ron had been right and George hadn't been working on his product.

"Would you like the grand tour?" George asked.

"Sure."

"This is my work room, obviously." Neville followed George down a long hall off the far end of the work room. George tapped the first door, "This is the loo," he tapped the second door, "This is my bedroom," The door was closed, so Neville couldn't get a good look. Then George tapped the third door, "This was Fred's room," The hall ended after that and opened up to a surprisingly bright and sunny kitchen. George began rooting through a cupboard and finally came up with a mortar and pestle. "I should keep one of these on my work table," he said absent-mindedly.

"So what do we do?" George asked Neville after they returned to the work room and George surreptitiously used his wand to suck up the dust covering the work table.

"No idea," Neville admitted.

"Well," George said thoughtfully. "We'll just do this trial and error then, right?" He grabbed some leaves off one of the yellow ivy plants and began grinding it up with the pestle. Within moments, a clear yellow liquid began to ooze from the leaves. "Is that supposed to happen?" George asked Neville.

Neville laughed, "No idea," he said again.

George looked up and met Neville's eyes and laughed with him. "All right then, I guess I should be the first guinea pig." George handed Neville a stopwatch, "Time how long it takes my feathers to fall off." George pulled a box of canary creams from under the table, opened it up and grabbed a cream. He took a deep breath, "here goes nothing," he muttered and shoved the cream into his mouth all at once. He chewed thoughtfully and said, mouth full of food, "You know, these really taste quite goo-." He was cut off by yellow feathers sprouting all over his body.

Neville hit the button on the stop watch. He and George were silent as they waited it out. After two minutes and thirty seven seconds, the feathers began to fall off and George was completely feather-less twenty seconds after that.

"So some people are stuck with the feathers?" Neville asked.

George nodded and opened another cream. "OK, time me again."

Neville reset the stopwatch and waited while George ate the second cream. For a second time that day, yellow feathers sprouted all over George's body. This time, immediately after swallowing the cream, he scooped out the contents of the mortar and shoved it in his mouth, making a terrible face in the process. However, no sooner had George swallowed when the feathers began falling off his body.

Neville stopped the watch, "Forty-two seconds," he exclaimed. "Blimey, George. I think it works."

George jumped up and down, "Yes!" he said, pumping his fist in the air. He grabbed Neville by the shoulders, "We did it, Neville!" He leaned in toward Neville and planted a wet kiss right on Neville's lips.

Neville's eyes widened, too stunned to kiss back. The kiss lasted only a few seconds before George let go and turned around. George turned back to his work table and began speaking fast, almost maniacally. "We might be on to something, you know? With this yellow ivy. I think what I should do next is call those customers who couldn't moult, maybe offer them some sort of gold incentive to come try the creams with the yellow ivy. Maybe offer to pay for their stay in St. Mungo's if it doesn't work. I'd better get more yellow ivy though. We just might be able to get these back on the shelves in a few months if I can get enough." By the time George had finished babbling, Neville had backed up to the door. His back pressed against the door and his fingers running over his lips. What, exactly, had George meant by kissing him?

George got quiet and still, his back was facing Neville, but he seemed to sense Neville's nervousness. He grabbed on to the work table, "I'm sorry, Neville," he said so quietly Neville wasn't quite sure he'd heard correctly.

"It's all right," Neville said just as quietly, his voice cracking causing Neville to writhe in embarrassment. "I should go," he said a little louder.

George turned around. "No! Stay. I'm sorry, I just...I won't do it again. All right?"

"Are you...?" Neville trailed off.

"What?" George was suddenly looking everywhere except at Neville.

"Are you, like that? You like blokes?"

The blush rose in George's face so fast it caught Neville off guard. He nodded slightly.

"Oh." Neville said faintly. He heard himself saying, "Me too." Saying it to Luna was the first he'd ever admitted to it. He didn't think he'd have to admit it again so quickly.

"I thought so." George said.

They both stood there, quietly for a moment. Not speaking, facing each other. George's hands were in his pockets and he was rocking back and forth on his feet. Neville was still pressed against the door. Both wanted to say something, both were scared to say something.

"So..." George said.

"So..." Neville repeated.

They locked eyes and began laughing at their mutual discomfort. Neville decided to do something uncharacteristically bold for him. He spoke up, "You can do it again. You know, if you want to."

"Yeah?" George asked.

"Mmm-hmm." Neville nodded.

"All right then," George took a tentative step towards Neville, licking his lips nervously. When he got to the door, he leaned in and pressed his lips softly to Neville's. Neville was expecting it this time, and was able to respond to the kiss immediately.

George pressed his whole body in to Neville's causing the door knob to dig in to Neville's back. Not that Neville cared. His body was singing, he felt impervious to pain.

They stayed like that, standing, kissing, for several minutes. Neville wrapped one arm around George's waist, while George had his hands on Neville's neck and running fingers through his hair. Their mouths opened and they licked their way in to each others' mouths.

They were startled apart by a knock on the door. "George?" Angelina Johnson's voice rang out. "We're getting a bit of a crowd down here!"

"I'll be right down," he said. George looked at Neville, whose lips were bright red and seemed to be pulsating. All George wanted to do was to stay up here and kiss those lips over and over. But...business was business.

"I have to go down there," he said apologetically.

"It's all right," Neville said. "Maybe I should go?" He didn't want to go.

"No. No," George insisted. "Stay here. I'll come back up when I can."

"All right," Neville agreed easily.

George darted down the stairs. Neville took a look at his surroundings and sat on the overstuffed sofa. He was breathing hard, trying to wrap his head around what'd just happened.

He'd known he was gay for a long time. Really since he was about twelve and had a horrible unrequited crush on Harry Potter. By fifth year, he was pretty well over that crush and came to think of Harry as a great friend. He'd always had a certain affection for the Weasley twins, who were so much who he wanted to be. Loud, outgoing, friends with everybody- they were everything Neville wasn't. He'd never really expected to find out either one of them was gay, though this last week he had been wondering more about George, particularly after George winked at him.

This was Neville's first kiss. He hoped he did all right. All of a sudden, he began to feel self-conscious about his kissing abilities, though George's reaction to the kiss suggested he'd done just fine.

Neville sat back in the chair and rubbed his eyes. He didn't want to do this. He didn't want to over-analyze anything. He didn't want to get too excited about George until he knew more about what George wanted. More kissing? A bit of snogging? An actual relationship?

Neville sat up. God, a relationship. _Stop_ he told himself. _No use getting your hopes up._ Neville needed to stop thinking. He needed something to do, some way to keep busy. He stood up and started wandering around the flat. He peeked into the loo. It was small but clean. He skipped over Fred's room, but did open George's door and looked inside. It was a nice sized room, much of the space taken up by a large four-poster bed, not unlike the beds at Hogwarts, though a size bigger. It had a burgundy and gold bed spread and about ten pillows. Neville wondered who would need that many pillows. The walls were mostly bare, save for a picture of the Weasley family from a few years back plus a picture of the Griffyndor quidditch team. The people in both pictures began waving wildly as Neville walked into the room carefully.

Neville looked closely at the photo of the Weasley family. Unlike most people, he'd never had trouble telling Fred and George apart. So alike in looks and demeanor and attitude, nearly everyone considered Fred and George one and the same. And in many ways, they were. Nearly inseparable, it made sense to most that they were one machine, Gred or Forge, whatever you wanted to call them. But Neville could always tell George by the slightly more rounded look of his shoulders. Or by the fact that Fred was an incurable flirt, while George occasionally had a more difficult time maintaining eye contact. Those are the types of things Neville noticed about people.

In fact, as Neville reflected on it, it was surprising that he didn't consider that George may be gay until just last week. You'd think that his own gayness coupled with his ability to read people would somehow clue him in to others' homosexuality, but Neville had remained unsuspecting, and always, _always_ convinced of the fact that being gay was a sentence to lifelong loneliness. Neville wondered if George had ever told Fred. Neville hoped so. He'd hate to think that Fred had died not knowing who his twin really was. That George had never gotten to truly open up to his brother, his best friend.

Neville wandered out of George's room and shut the door carefully behind him. He made his way into the kitchen. Maybe it was the sight of the kitchen that did it to him, but Neville was suddenly famished. He searched the ice box and the cupboards and found the makings of bangers and mash. Methodically, and using his wand for the first time in months, Neville began making lunch for himself and George.

Neville had just finished making lunch when George burst back in to the flat.

"Sorry about that," he apologized.

"It's all right," Neville assured him, "It's your business. Look, I made you some lunch."

"Thanks, you didn't have to."

Neville shook his head, "No. I wanted to."

Neville and George sat at the table quietly, somewhat awkwardly. The were about halfway through eating when George said in a soft voice, "I'm glad you came to the shop last week, Neville. People have been wondering where you've been."

Neville blushed and shrugged. "I just haven't felt much like being out."

"I don't blame you," George said. "But blimey, Neville. You're famous!"

Neville laughed bitterly. "I know. I've got the fan mail and book deal requests and job offers. I don't want a single one of them."

"But Neville, you've got to do something. You can't just have a lie-in for the rest of your life at your Gran's house."

"I don't want any of _those_ things. People _died_. I got the mail and the interview requests and job offers because people died. It's sick."

George gave Neville a hard look. "Fred would want you to take advantage. He'd think you're being a bloody idiot turning down these offers."

Neville shrugged. "I still don't want it."

"Then what _do_ you want?"

George was challenging Neville, and Neville was glad for it. No one had questioned his desire to stay in bed for months on end. His Gran had been willing to let Neville work things out for himself without throwing him out to the real world. But maybe what he needed was to be thrown out to the real world.

Neville shrugged. "I don't know. I don't know what I'm qualified for. Finding a sword in a hat and killing a snake doesn't exactly qualify me for much of anything. It just means I'm damn lucky."

George leaned back in his chair and smiled at Neville. "I think I've got just the thing for you. Herb Ignatius runs the greenhouse and nursery where I buy a bit of plant that I need for my product. He's looking for help."

"Where is it?"

"Wales."

"I haven't passed my apparition exam. I can't get to Wales."

"So take your exam."

"George." Neville stopped and thought. "It's not that I don't appreciate it. I just haven't even attempted apparition since sixth year. And then I wasn't any good at it."

"So, you'll get good at it. I can help."

Neville shifted uncomfortably. "You'd help?"

George smiled, the biggest smile Neville had seen from him so far, "I'd love to."

Neville took a last bite of his food and nodded his head. "Let's do it."


	5. Chapter 5

1 It turns out that Neville's problem in sixth year had been like so many of his other problems in life. It was all confidence, or in Neville's case, his lack of confidence.

At first, Neville couldn't apparate at all, even with George's help. But George was a patient teacher, much better than the instructor at Hogwarts, and within two days, Neville had managed to apparate about two feet. His success was rewarded with a kiss from George.

Of course, most of his failures had also been rewarded with kisses from George. Neville and George never bothered to talk about what they were doing, what the kissing meant. They just let it happen.

Once Neville managed to apparate regularly, he sent an owl with a request to the ministry to take his exam. He received a letter back the following day noting the date and time of his scheduled exam. Neville had four days.

On the morning of his exam, Neville woke early. He made himself breakfast and left the house before his Gran had even woken up. He left a cryptic note saying he had things to do, which shouldn't surprise Gran, as Neville hadn't been spending much time at home the last couple weeks. Gran never asked him where he was going, as though asking him about it would somehow jinx him back into the safety of his bed. Neville walked to the nearest muggle underground station and took it to the visitor's entrance at the ministry.

He hadn't been to the ministry since the end of his fifth year. It looked much the same, perhaps a little brighter. Or perhaps that was just his imagination.

Neville went to the main desk, where he had his wand checked by a security wizard, and received a name tag. He was directed to a hall located right off the main lobby where apparition exams are given.

Neville made his way down the hall, following signs to the apparition exam room. He was the first one there. He was there even before the examiner. Neville sighed impatiently and sat down on a hard chair to wait. He nervously tapped his wand against the side of the chair, making small red sparks fly out the end of it each time it struck.

Finally, a short balding wizard with dark round glasses and wearing bright red robes approached looking frazzled. "Sorry I'm late," he apologized, rushing toward Neville. "Are you my first exam?"

"Yes, sir." Neville answered.

The wizard unlocked the door and Neville followed him into a large room, about the size of a half basketball court. The room had a dark shiny floor, and almost no furniture save for a desk covered with paperwork and shoved in a corner.

"All right," the wizard said. "My name is Lexeter Broome. I'll be taking your apparition exam today. May I see your wand?" Neville handed his wand over and Lexeter Broome examined it carefully. "Seems to be in good order," he said cheerfully handing the wand back.

Lexeter waved his own wand and conjured a clipboard and a quill. "What is your name?"

"Neville Longbottom."

Lexeter looked up over the clipboard at Neville. "Blimey, are you really _the_ Neville Longbottom? The one who helped defeat you-know-who?"

Neville nodded uncomfortably. "Yeah, that's me."

Lexeter's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Well, it's a pleasure to meet you Mr. Longbottom."

For a moment, Neville didn't realize Lexeter was talking to him. He'd never been called Mr. Longbottom before in his life. "Call me Neville," was all he said.

"All right, Neville." Lexeter seemed thrilled that Neville was there and stared at him with wide eyes.

"Uh...." Neville said. He gestured to the clipboard. "Any other questions?"

"Oh!" Lexeter looked down. He quickly scrawled Neville's name down. "Age?"

"Nineteen."

"Have you graduated?"

"No. I didn't complete my seventh year."

"Are you going to?"

"Is this necessary for the exam?"

"Somewhat. We do need to know if you're still a student. The school requires us to keep track of any student who is able to legally apparate. So if you were planning on going back, I'd need to notify Professor McGonagall."

"Well, I probably won't go back."

"Very well." Lexeter started walking to the other side of the large room. Neville began to follow him. "You stay there." When he got to the other side, Lexeter took out his wand and made a large circle on the floor in front of him. "Your first task Neville, is to apparate to this circle."

Neville concentrated, the way George taught him to focus, turned on the spot and heard a loud pop as he suddenly found himself being sucked through space and reappearing inside the circle.

With that task down, Neville felt much more confident and comfortable. He followed Lexeter by apparition to the edge of London, to the field where the Quidditch World Cup had been held five years ago, to Hogsmeade, and finally back to the exam room. With George's hints, Neville managed them all perfectly.

"Excellent, my boy!" Lexeter boomed. "Really great job! There is no problem, none at all with giving you an apparition license." Lexeter buried his nose in the clipboard once more, signed a few lines and handed the paper to Neville. "Take this to room 120, where you'll be given your license."

"Thank you, sir." Neville said grabbing the paper. He was bursting with happiness. A feeling he'd not felt in over a year. Happiest still, because he realized he had someone to share his good news with.

* * *

George was still asleep. Actually that wasn't technically true, he was at that point where he was drifting between being asleep and awake. He wasn't ready to wake up, but knew he probably should. He wanted so badly to stay in the dream he'd been having. By the light he could see from behind his closed lids, he guessed that he'd need to open the shop in about an hour.

Suddenly, he was jolted awake by a loud "pop!" sound. George sat up quickly and looked around to see Neville standing at the foot of his bed, a big smile on his face.

"Neville!"

Neville held out a small card. "I did it! I passed my apparition exam!"

George gaped at him, "You didn't even tell me you were going to take the exam!"

Neville smiled, a little shyly. "I wanted it to be a surprise. You know, in case I failed."

George threw back the covers and patted the bed next to him. "Come here."

Neville kicked off his shoes and jumped in to bed next to George. He gave George a kiss on the lips, "Thanks for helping me."

George returned the kiss enthusiastically. "Glad to do it."

This is how the last few weeks had been. Neville finding reasons to come visit George. George finding reasons to sneak up to the flat during working hours where they'd spend time kissing passionately. Of course, they also talked and joked and ate lunch and dinner nearly every day together. But it was the kissing that Neville looked most forward to.

It was something they'd never talked about. It happened organically. Neville wanted to talk about it, to ask George what, exactly, they were doing - what they were to each other. But he was having the same problem with self-confidence, not wanting to rock the boat. In the meantime, he was perfectly happy to go about kissing George.

This time though, this was different. They were in bed, laying down. Both Neville and George were aware that this _thing_ that they'd started, this relationship or whatever it was, this messing around was suddenly becoming more serious.

George slept in pajama pants. That was it. No shirt, no socks, no underwear. Just pajama pants. Neville, on the other hand, was obviously already dressed. Underwear, socks, trousers, t-shirt with a sweatshirt over top of it. Neville was terribly overdressed, a situation which he was attempting to remedy. He kept his mouth glued to George's as he pulled his sweatshirt up, breaking the kiss just to remove it. George pulled anxiously at the hem of Neville's t-shirt, lifting it over his head. Neville kicked his socks off and settled in next to George, kissing him fervently.

Neville tried to keep his hips several inches from George's. He was intimidated by George being able to feel just how turned on this kissing made him. But Neville didn't need to worry long, when George suddenly pressed his hips into Neville's, he (Neville) had no problem with feeling George's erection. And that suddenly made it all right.

Neville gasped when George pulled at the waistband of Neville's trousers. "Is this all right?" George asked in a whisper.

"Yeah," Neville said. "I've just..." he trailed off.

"What is it?" George asked.

"I've never done this before."

George got a sly smile on his face. "It's all right. I taught you to apparate, right? Maybe I can teach you something else."

Neville giggled, then realizing how much like a girl he sounded, clapped his hand over his mouth.

George laughed loudly. "God that was cute," and he leaned in and kissed Neville's neck.

From out in the hall, Neville heard a toilet flush. He sat straight up. George groaned. "Ron. He stayed here last night. We were up late stocking shelves and he crashed in Fred's room."

Neville and George listened quietly to Ron's footsteps walking down the hall. He tapped on George's door. George pushed Neville's head under the comforter and threw a few of the many pillows on top of him, as he called out, "Yeah?"

"Can I come in?"

"Er...no. I'm naked." Neville stifled a giggle.

"What? So? Like I've never seen you naked before." Ron paused and George didn't answer. "I just wanted to get you up. Shop opens in a half hour. I'm leaving early today to go out with Hermione."

"All right, I'm up." George listened to Ron's footsteps heading in to the kitchen before pulling the covers back. He looked down at Neville and smiled. "To be continued?" he whispered.

Neville nodded and stepped quietly out of bed. He dressed himself, gave George a kiss goodbye and apparated back to his house with a loud 'pop.'

George watched Neville go, and walked into the kitchen to have breakfast with Ron.

"Did someone disapparate?" Ron asked.

"What? No."

"Yeah," Ron nodded his head, shoveling a huge spoonful of oatmeal into his mouth. "I heard the noise. Someone just disapparated from your room. Who was it? Did you have a girl in last night?"

George ruffled Ron's fiery red hair. "Oh little brother. If I did have a girl in last night, you'd never know about it."

"C'mon..." Ron goaded. "Tell me."

George looked at Ron appraisingly. "Tell me about Hermione."

Ron spluttered. "What about her?"

"You want me to kiss and tell, but you won't?"

"Hermione'd kill me."

George just smiled and poured himself some tea.


	6. Chapter 6

1 It was still early when Neville arrived back at his house. He apparated to the front porch easily. When he walked into his house, Gran was already awake, but it didn't appear she'd been awake for long. She was at the stove, making her usual breakfast of weak tea, eggs, toast and melon. Neville went over and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

Gran smiled. She had noticed a definite improvement in Neville's well-being over the last couple weeks, even if she could still hear him tossing and turning in his sleep. She had no idea where he was going when he left the house every day, and she didn't want to ask. Because obviously, whatever he was doing was working. Neville was an adult and she trusted him to tell her when he was ready.

"I've got a surprise," Neville said.

"Oh?" Gran asked.

Neville reached in his pocket and pulled out his new license. "I passed my apparition exam," he held out the license to his Gran shyly.

Gran looked up in surprise. "Neville!" she exclaimed. She took the license and looked it over carefully. "I didn't know you were going to do this."

Neville shrugged, blushing slightly. "George Weasley told me about a position opening up at a greenhouse in Wales. I'd have to do this" he waved toward the license, "if I wanted to consider trying to get to Wales for work."

"Work?" Gran asked handing him back his license. "That's great Neville." She held his face in her hands. "Oh, I'm so proud of you. Sit. I'll make you some breakfast."

Neville sat obediently, quietly, only half listening to his Gran chatter about Wales and apparition and plant life. Gran placed a plate in front of Neville and sat down across from him. "Why so quiet, Neville?"

"I have something to tell you."

"All right, what is it?"

"It's not an easy thing to say."

"Are you ill?"

"No. No. Nothing like that." Neville hesitated. "It's just. I had some help, learning to apparate. George Weasley taught me."

"Well that's nice." Gran said, sounding confused. "The Weasleys are a lovely wizarding family."

"Yeah," Neville said dismissively. He knew the Weasleys were lovely, but that wasn't really his point. Gran was the most important person in his life. And as tough as she'd been on him when he was a child, she always loved him unconditionally and he'd always know he could trust her. He knew she'd done her best, raising him. So he took a deep breath. "Anyway, I've been spending a lot of time with George that last couple weeks."

"Well, yes. I noticed you were gone quite a bit." Gran said uncertainly.

Neville was quiet for several more moments. He took a bit of toast, then realized it was a bad idea when his throat was too dry to allow him to swallow. Neville took a gulp of tea to wash it down, but it didn't help the dry, scratchy feeling in his throat.

"Neville," Gran put her fork down. "You can tell me anything."

"I'm gay." Neville didn't look at his Gran, instead focusing on an area about one foot above her head.

"Oh." Gran took a small bite of egg. "And George is..?" she trailed off.

"Also gay," Neville said nodding.

"So you two are..?" she didn't seem to be able to finish a sentence.

"Yeah. We are."

"I'm glad you told me."

"Are you mad?"

"Neville! Of course I'm not mad. I'm not entirely surprised either. I've had my suspicions that you are gay for a while now."

"Have you?" That made Gran and Luna who suspected. Neville wondered if he was really that transparent.

"Look, Neville. I just want you to be happy. You've been having such a tough time the last few months. I love seeing you happy again. And if we have George Weasley to thank for that, then all the better. Invite him to dinner! What do you say?"

"Er...dinner?" Neville hadn't quite expected this. Gran seemed a little...too happy. He wondered if she was overcompensating. Neville wasn't sure that dinner with Gran was really something George would be keen on. Hell, he wasn't even sure that George would be keen on having been outed to Neville's Gran. "I'll talk to him about it."

Gran didn't pursue the topic. On the inside, she was conflicted. Something she'd never let Neville know. On one hand, it wasn't a great surprise to her. She'd seen Neville throughout the years glance vaguely away from witches who Gran knew to be good looking. And she'd seen him look with interest at handsome wizards. Half of her had been hoping it was just a phase, but when Neville made it through adolescence without any obvious crushes, Gran began to suspect more strongly exactly who her grandson was. And the gay thing didn't really bother her.

What did bother her is that, even in the wizarding world, there was prejudice against gay witches and wizards. It bothered her that her shy, quiet, unassuming Grandson may have to deal with such prejudice. And in her heart of hearts, it did bother her a little bit that this could mean the end of the Longbottom name. Unless Neville could change who he is, he wouldn't be producing any offspring. But saying anything like that to Neville would put him in a truly unfair position. So she remained quiet on the subject, plastering a big fake smile across her face.

"Dinner?" George asked Neville later that afternoon when Neville told him about his conversation with his Gran. The store was quiet, the last patron had left about two minutes ago and Neville was sitting there with George, alone, since Ron had left. The store was due to close in fifteen minutes.

"Yeah," Neville blushed.

"Can we put that off a bit?"

"Definitely."

"Good, because, you know, I haven't even told anyone in my family that I'm gay."

Neville nodded. He'd guessed as much by the way George freaked out when Ron knocked on the door. "Did you ever tell Fred?"

George grimaced, as he did so often when Fred's name was mentioned, and nodded. "'Course I did. He was fine with it. You know, my brother was my best mate. He wouldn't have cared." George was silent for a moment and a smile spread slowly across his face. "One time, I guess it was sixth year, he got me the eligible wizard issue of Witch Weekly and wrapped it up for me. He told me it was my wanking gift. Since he was getting some from Angelina and I hadn't gotten any since Oliver left Hogwarts-"

Neville cut him off. "Oliver Wood is gay?"

George shook his head. "Bi. He goes both ways."

Neville sighed, "I had no idea."

"Anyway. Fred was fine with it. Turned it in to a joke, just like we did with everything. It was one of our secrets, a thing we kept from our family."

"You should tell someone else. It might make you feel better."

"Better how?"

Neville shrugged. "I just know I feel better for having told Gran."

"Yeah, but your Gran is different than my family. Your Gran is quiet and can keep a secret. My family is loud and obnoxious and everyone would be in my business."

"All right," Neville held up his hands in surrender.

"Anyway," George looked at his pocketwatch. "Let's close up a couple minutes early and head back upstairs. Didn't we start something this morning?" He smiled flirtily at Neville.

Neville's heart skipped a beat. "Er. Yeah. I think we did." He could feel himself blushing as George waved his wand toward the door and windows, locking them. Then extinguishing the lights and heading toward the flat stairs.

Neville followed George, his heart thumping loudly in his chest.

When they got into the flat, George shut the door and immediately pressed Neville up against it, kissing him hard. Neville responded in kind, opening his mouth and letting George's tongue in. George wasted no time in pulling up the hem of Neville's shirt. Neville obliged him by taking it off. George backed up and stared at Neville. He kicked off his shoes, took off his own shirt and beckoned Neville back to the bedroom. Neville kicked off his own shoes and hurried after him.

Neville was surprised that the bed hadn't been made. Neville discovered that George was uncharacteristically fastidious about certain things, and one of them was making his bed, which not only had to be made every morning, but all ten pillows had to be in their exact places. Still, Neville was a little distracted at this moment and didn't think to ask George why he hadn't made the bed.

"What is this?" George asked, tracing a long thin scar that went across Neville's abdomen.

"Scar," Neville said burying his head in George's neck and kissing lightly. "There're more on my back."

George turned Neville around and gasped. He traced his fingers along the snake-like scars and counted them. "One, two, three, four, and just a hint of five," he whispered. "Where'd you get these?"

"Seventh year," Neville sighed. "When people said I was the Carrows' whipping boy, they meant it quite literally."

George pulled away and looked Neville in the eye. "You were whipped?"

Neville nodded, "They thought I knew where Harry was. And later where Harry, Hermione and Ron were. They got Ginny also. They would have got Luna also, but you know the Death Eaters kidnapped her first."

George went pale. "Ginny never told me."

"No. Probably only Harry knows. She and I agreed not to tell anyone unless they happened to see us with our shirts off."

"So she's scarred like this?"

Neville nodded. "The scars wouldn't be so bad if we'd gone to Madame Pomfrey. But we tried to treat them ourselves."

"Why didn't you go to Madame Pomfrey?"

"I don't think you realize what it was like there, at Hogwarts that year. Madame Pomfrey would have certainly treated us, but she would have paid a steep price for it by the Carrows. Any professor who was considered too friendly to me and Ginny and Luna was punished."

"I can't believe this," George whispered, still tracing the marks on Neville's back. "I can't believe I never knew. I can't believe Ginny's been keeping it a secret."

George pulled his hand away quickly and Neville could hear him hesitating.

"Look," Neville tried to reassure him by poking at the scar on his abdomen. "You lost an ear, I got whipped and beaten. We're both battle-scarred, all right? It doesn't hurt anymore. You can still touch me." Neville lowered his voice, "I _want_ you to."

George ran his fingers gently along Neville's back, making Neville shiver excitedly.

George pushed Neville down lightly on the bed and crawled on top of him. When Neville would later look back on this night, he'd remember a few things. The first is that George looked Neville straight in the eyes when he was unbuckling his trousers. The second thing Neville would never forget is how it felt the first time he felt another man's erection bump against his own. Finally, he'd never forget the realization that a handjob from someone else is far, far better than one you give yourself.

It was a decadent night with Neville and George exchanging quick furious handjobs in George's luxuriously messy bed, followed by a dinner of cold leftovers from George's icebox, followed by a second round of snogging, this round much slower and more deliberate, and finally the two men falling asleep for the night, wrapped in each other, naked.


	7. Chapter 7

1 **Dreams and Dinner. **

When Neville woke up the next morning, he turned and looked at George, who was already awake and staring wide-eyed at Neville.

"Morning," George smiled. "You slept a long time."

Neville nodded. "I needed it. I haven't slept well in...," he thought back. "Over a year now."

"I had a dream last night," George said.

"A good one?"

George shrugged. "It's a recurring dream. Almost every night since Fred died, I have this dream. Fred is in it, and he has my ear," George pointed to the hole on his head where his ear had been cursed off. "And he's talking in to it. He's talking in to my ear. He can never see me there, but he's holding my ear and talking in to it, like he's talking to me and like I can hear him, right?"

"Yeah," Neville said.

"Anyway. I love to sleep. Because I keep having these dreams with Fred and it's the only time I get to see him anymore. I get to hear his voice and hear his jokes. You, Neville, have had trouble sleeping, but I have been trying to sleep as much as possible these last few months, hoping I'll get a chance to see Fred."

"What types of things does Fred say to you?"

George shrugged, "In the beginning, like right after he died, he say things like, 'I'm really happy here. You'd love it to. There's lots of pretty girls and handsome blokes. But don't hurry up to get here, I can wait.' Because I was thinking of killing myself, which I never told anyone, but which Fred would have known I was thinking."

Neville grabbed on to George's hand. George continued. "So I started feeling a bit better, because dream Fred assured me that there was a place for me wherever he is, but I'm not supposed to be there yet. So once I started feeling better about that, he told my ear that I should contact Angelina. Because she was sad and hadn't found a job. So I did that and she started working at the shop for me." George smiled. "Then he told me that I needed to make sure Ginny knows a birth control spell. Which I never did ask her, but I did threaten Harry a little bit. So hopefully that worked." Neville laughed, delighted. Only George Weasley could get away with threatening Harry Potter. "A few weeks ago, Fred started telling me about you."

"Me?" Neville asked incredulously.

"Yeah, you." George answered. "The night before you came in to the shop that first time, he said that I had to stick with you. Not to let you go in to hiding again. And so I did. I didn't know why I was doing it at first. I thought it was just to get the canary creams back on the shelves. But that seemed too small. And then I realized. Halfway through eating that first canary cream, I knew, I don't know how, I just _knew_ why Fred was telling me to stick with you. And I kissed you, and sure enough, that was right."

Neville rolled over and propped himself up on his elbow. "You kissed me because of a message you got from your dead brother in a dream?" This was too much. This was surreal. This _had_ to be a classic Weasley prank.

George nodded, his eyes glowing. "But last night he told me that he didn't need to keep coming to me in my dreams. That I'd done right by finding you and bringing you here. That we were going to make each other happy and that his work was done."

"Is this a joke?" Neville asked.

"No. I'm deadly serious." Neville looked at George's face and saw that he was right. He _was_ deadly serious.

"How do you feel about him not coming back to your dreams?"

George shrugged. "A little untethered. But honestly not as bad as I thought I would have. The thing is; Fred has been dead for seven months now. I feel like I got an extra seven months with him. Those dreams gave me that. Fred is confident that I'm going to be happy. So I'm confident that I'm going to be happy."

"I'm happy." Neville said suddenly.

"Yeah?"

Neville nodded emphatically. "I just realized it. I've spent months feeling sad and lonely and depressed. So I just kind of assumed I'd be that way forever. But now, laying here with you and thinking about it - I'm not depressed. I feel happy. Honest to God happy." Neville knew he was happy. But he also knew part of the reason Fred wanted George to come to him was for George's happiness. And Neville wondered if there was some work that needed to be done in that area.

George laughed and leaned down to kiss Neville lightly on the lips. "I'm glad you stayed here last night."

Neville nodded, "Me too."

Scratch, scratch. Neville and George looked up. There was an owl at the window. George got up and opened the window, completely unconcerned that his window faced Diagon Alley and that he was stark naked. The owl hopped onto the window ledge and held out its leg. George took the note off and unfolded it.

"It's from Ron. He and Hermione and Harry and Ginny are coming over for dinner tonight. Hermione's cooking." George sighed and looked up at Neville. "Want to come?"

"Sure. But I have to go. I'm heading out to Wales to see about that job you mentioned to me." Neville stood up and pulled on his pants. He leaned over and kissed George. "I'll be back before dinner."

Dinner that night was a strange affair. Neville told George that he happened to see Professor Sprout at the greenhouses that afternoon. Rather than encourage him to get a position at the nursery, she told him she'd gotten permission to expand Hogwarts' greenhouses and their collection of magical plants. So she asked him if he'd like to manage the plants and greenhouses. So that was settled, though his new position wouldn't begin until after the current students left for the summer. Which was fine with Neville, he hadn't touched any of his magical plant books since halfway through his seventh year at Hogwarts and definitely needed to brush up.

George was happy for Neville. Glad that things were looking up for him. George left Angelina in charge of the store for the remainder of the evening, while he and Neville retired to the flat and spent the hour before the arrival of the others wanking each other off in the bedroom.

Hermione, who was surprised to see Neville there, had just spent a couple of weeks in China, visiting ancient Chinese wizarding locales. She came back armed with some recipes she was sure were delicious and wanted to try her hand at making. She was instructing all of them with the correct use of chopsticks and how to use them to shovel the rice in their mouths. Ginny charmed hers to work automatically, and Ron had transfigured his chopsticks in to forks.

The six of them settled around the kitchen table. But before they could start eating, Ron tapped his fork on the side of his bowl of rice. "I have an announcement to make," he said happily. Everyone looked up expectantly and saw him grinning and Hermione blushing furiously. Ron grabbed Hermione's hand. "I've asked Hermione to marry me. And she said yes."

"Oh!" Ginny gasped and got up from her seat to give Hermione a big hug. Harry patted Ron on the shoulder, "Good one, man!" Neville leaned over the table to shake Ron's hand. "Congratulations."

George was silent as he shook Ron's hand, though he was smiling widely. When the cheering and congratulations settled down, George turned to Hermione, "Have you got a bun in the oven?" He asked it lightly, in a conversational tone and with a smile on his face.

"George," Neville admonished him. But, wait. Was he right?

"No," Hermione said haughtily.

"George, what the hell?" Ron asked. "Can't you just be happy for us?"

George shrugged. "I am happy for you. It's just that you're only nineteen, I thought I'd ask what we're all probably thinking. Just to get it out of the way."

"Mum and Dad got married at nineteen," Ron pointed out.

"And Mum was knocked up with Bill." George answered.

"No she wasn't."

George rolled his eyes. "Of course she was. Haven't you ever done the math? Mum and Dad got married at the end of April. Bill was born in November. I'm telling you, Mum and Dad _had _to get married."

"Ron," Ginny said laughing. "Even_ I_ figured that one out years ago!"

"OK, so fine," though Ron did look a little taken aback by this news. "But that doesn't have anything to do with me and Hermione, all right?"

George nodded. "I'm sorry. This is a celebration, right? I shouldn't have asked it." George got up from the table and grabbed a bottle of firewhiskey. He poured six glasses and passed them around. He stood at the table and held up his glass, "To Ron and Hermione and everlasting love."

The others raised their glasses, "To everlasting love!" they repeated.

The truth is that dinner was delicious. And that once the firewhiskey took hold, all six of the friends were feeling woozy and deliriously happy. Hermione couldn't stop looking down and staring at the ring on her finger. Twice, George saw her tap it with her wand, trying to clean off non-existent smudges.

Ron grabbed George by the shoulder, "I'm so happy, brother. Really. I want you to find someone too," Ron slurred.

George laughed. "I've kind of been seeing someone the last few weeks."

Neville looked towards George. He knew George was drunk and maybe would regret this. But Neville, having had quite a bit of firewhiskey himself, was in no mood to stop George from saying something he'd regret.

Either way, George's comment certainly got the attention of the rest of the table.

"Who've you been seeing?" Ron asked. "I haven't noticed anyone but Neville hanging around here lately."

"Exactly," George said pointing at Ron.

"Huh?" Ron asked.

It was Hermione who got it first, after a small pause. She gasped. "George! Neville! Really?"

George nodded.

Ron, Harry and Ginny still looked mystified.

"I think that's lovely," Hermione said. She tottered unevenly over to Neville and hugged him. "Are you happy with him?" she whispered into his ear, her hot firewhiskey breath warming his ear slightly.

Neville nodded. Hermione gave Neville a hug, then turned and gave George a hug.

"Ohhhhh...." Ginny said trailing off, the metaphorical lightbulb clicking on over her head. "George, why did you never tell anyone?"

"Tell anyone what?" Ron asked. He and Harry still looked utterly confused.

Hermione and Ginny rolled their eyes. "It's Neville," Hermione said with mock patience. "George is seeing someone. It's Neville."

Ron looked at George and broke out laughing. "No you're not."

George nodded, "I am."

"Wait." Harry said. "You're gay?" he asked George.

George nodded again. "I am."

"And you are too, Nev?"

Neville nodded. "Yeah."

Ron, who had been leaning back on the back two legs of his chair, let his chair come down with a thud. "Blimey. Is this a joke?"

George smirked. "No way little brother. I am gay. Always have been, always will be."

Ginny interrupted, "Honestly, George. Why didn't you tell any of us?"

George sighed. "I did. I told Fred."

"Why'd you keep it a secret?" Ginny asked. Her face was concerned.

"Because." George looked wide-eyed, obviously unsure what to say. "I don't really know why I did. Sometimes there are things we just decide not to tell anyone for no good reason, you know? Like we're afraid to be judged about something that's not our fault, like being gay. Or maybe like being tortured and beaten by dark wizards." George gave Ginny a pointed look to let her know that he knew about being whipped.

Ginny blushed, but persisted. "But it's not like you to care about something like that. To worry about being judged."

"No. It wasn't like _Fred_ to care about something like that. Things like that always bothered me more than they did him." George's point was that even in his family, he and Fred were lumped together. Ginny got it, George could tell by the way she blushed even deeper.

"Wait," Ron interrupted. "I just can't get over this. You're gay. You never told any of us. And now I find out Neville's gay. And I find out you two are snogging." Ron looked around, bewildered. "This is just a lot of new information in one night."

George goaded Ron, "I also shagged Oliver Wood."

Ron looked vaguely horrified, but Harry let out a loud, "Ha!"

"Oh, Ron," Hermione said exasperatedly. "It doesn't matter, does it? George is still George, right?"

Ron shrugged, "Yeah he's still George. But now he's shagging Neville."

"Ron," Ginny spat at him. "It doesn't change anything."

Ron looked for a minute like he was going to argue, but hesitated, "Yeah. You're right. Doesn't matter, doesn't change anything." But his face was bright red.

"Ronald!" Hermione began.

"What?" He got defensive. "I said it was fine. And it is!"

"Anyway," George said loudly. "Isn't this supposed to be a celebration for you two?"

The party continued, for several more hours. More firewhiskey was consumed as the six friends celebrated the impending nuptials of Ron and Hermione.

At one point, when Ron went to the bathroom, Harry pulled George and Neville aside, "Listen. I'm really happy for you guys. Just give Ron some time. You know he doesn't do well with change." Harry hesitated, "I think he thinks your news overshadowed his."

George nodded. That had always been Ron's problem. As the sixth boy, he was constantly overshadowed. "You know me, Harry. I've never gone easy on Ron before and I don't expect to start now." But he said it with a laugh.

Sure enough, right as Ron walked back in to the bathroom, George leaned in to Neville and planted a big kiss right on his mouth. Ron flinched, but didn't say anything.

Neville whispered into George's ear, "He's your brother. He'll be fine."

George leaned his forehead to Neville's, "I know. I just...wanted everyone to take it like Fred did. Which was to not change anything about how he reacted to me, except to point out blokes he thought I'd find handsome."

"Ron isn't Fred," Neville pointed out. "You aren't Fred, and you like people to know it. So you can't expect others to be like Fred."

George backed up. "That is a surprisingly good point, Neville. On that point, let's go to bed." George grabbed Neville's hand, "We're going to bed," he called to the rest of the group. "Conjure yourself some place to sleep, because no one here is in any condition to apparate."


	8. Chapter 8

1 **The Burrow**

_A/N: Beware the M rating in this chapter. _

George went to dinner at The Burrow the following evening. Ron was going to announce the big engagement to the rest of the family. Hermione was coming along, as were Ginny and Harry. Neville was staying away. George decided that this dinner needed to be about Ron and his news. Anything George had to say could wait.

Unfortunately, his big-mouthed soon to be sister-in-law opened her big mouth.

Ron hadn't even been able to give his news yet. The whole family was there when George got in. Bill was sitting on the couch with Fleur, who was looking uncomfortably pregnant. Her pregnancy seemed to make her glow even brighter and George wondered if that happened to part-Veelas. George, of course, had always been immune to the charms of Veela, but he'd had a hell of a time poking fun at Fred about the Veela. Ginny and Harry were sitting on the coffee table, facing Bill and Fleur and the four were deep in conversation. Charlie wasn't there. It was too difficult to get him away from the dragons anymore. Percy was standing in a corner, glasses in his teeth, flipping through a book. He seemed to be trying hard to ignore the cacophony around him. Auntie Muriel (damn, George didn't know she'd be here) was sitting in front of the fire with Arthur, sour look on her face as always and complaining about the new ministry. Ron and Hermione seemed to have gotten there just before George, because they were just handing their coats to Mrs. Weasley.

"Where's Neville?" Hermione asked George quietly. Only it wasn't quietly enough.

"Neville Longbottom?" Molly asked. "Why are you asking that?"

George shrugged and tried to ignore his mother.

"George," Hermione tugged his sleeve. "Maybe you should say something."

"Hermione, you don't get to interfere in my business. You aren't a member of this family yet." George commented through gritted teeth.

"_Yet_?" Molly asked.

"That's right, Mum." Ron put his arms around Hermione from behind. "I've asked Hermione to marry me." A slight pause and Ron continued, "And she said yes!"

"That's fantastic news!" Arthur left Auntie Muriel's side and ran over to give Hermione a hug.

"Oh my," Molly looked flushed. "There'll be so much to do! When's the date?"

"Not until after I leave Hogwarts," Hermione explained.

"Oh," Molly suddenly looked much happier and relieved. "So you're not....I mean you don't need to get married quickly."

Ron rolled his eyes, but Hermione smiled and politely said, "No. It's not like that at all," while George smirked behind Molly's back.

Arthur went to the kitchen and came back with several bottles of wine. George, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Harry, not quite recovered from the previous night's drinking, all looked a bit nauseous at the thought of drinking more. But they each accepted a small glass to make a toast.

Arthur stood on a chair and raised his glass of wine. "To Hermione, who will soon be my daughter-in-law. And to love and marriage."

Everyone raised their glasses, "To love and marriage!"

Dinner was a great celebratory affair. The only downside was Auntie Muriel's not-too-subtle hints about Hermione being muggle-born. By this point, everyone had learned to mostly ignore Auntie Muriel, though Arthur couldn't resist sticking up for Hermione, who he'd always considered such a _good_ influence on Ron.

After dinner, Harry, Ron, Ginny and Bill headed outside to play a two-to-a-side game of quidditch. Molly, Fleur and Hermione began doing the dishes. George sat at the kitchen table, blank piece of parchment in front of him and began trying to fill the sheet with ideas for new products. Arthur came in to the room, grabbed the last treacle tart and sat across from George, "What are you working on?"

George sighed, "We need new products at the shop. Returning customers are starting to get bored with what we already have."

"Maybe Neville could help," Hermione said slyly. George shot her a murderous look.

"What's this about Neville?" Molly asked companionably. "It's the second time his name's been brought up."

"Hermione, can I talk to you in private?" George asked, voice dripping with faux sweetness. He grabbed her arm and yanked her into the parlor, not even caring that her hands were dripping in dishwater. He cast a quick muffliato charm at the door before turning on her, "What the _hell _are you doing?"

Hermione looked indignant. "They're your family. You need to tell them."

"The hell I do! It's my business and I'll decide what to tell them and when."

"So you're just going to live with having a major part of your life being a total secret? Your family loves you and wants you to be happy."

"That's not the point. The point is that it's my decision, not yours."

"Neville told his Gran. And George, you know she's way more formidable than either of your parents. The only one who'll care is Auntie Muriel, and aren't we all past caring what she thinks anyway? She'd still probably like Neville more than me, because at least he's pureblood."

"Hermione. Stop. You have to let me do this my way."

"If you wait too long to tell them, then you'll have to contend with them wondering why it took you so long to say anything. Then you'll have to deal with them possibly being offended that you didn't think enough of them to say anything. You're twenty-one years old, George. Just...." Hermione trailed off. "You owe it to yourself to be able to be who you really are. I mean, George. Aren't you sick of keeping it a secret?"

"Of _course_ I'm sick of it. I wish things were different and I wish gay wasn't this terrible thing to be. I wish Ron had handled hearing I'm gay the same way he would have handled me saying something like, 'I don't like watermelon.'"

"The longer you wait the stranger it's going to seem to your family."

"Not another word, promise me Hermione."

Hermione nodded. She'd said what she wanted to say. Now it was up to George to think about what she said.

Hermione and George walked back in to the kitchen just as Ginny, Ron, Harry and Bill walked back in. Molly looked up at Hermione and George, "What were you going to say about Neville?"

"You told them about you and Neville?" Ron asked incredulously.

"No, but your dear fiancé seems to be forcing my hand about it." Ron looked at Hermione like he wanted to admonish her. But she just crossed her arms over her chest and looked away, nose slightly in the air.

"What is going on?" Arthur asked looking bewildered.

"Yes, I'd like to know what this is about Neville Longbottom and what George could possibly be trying to keep us from finding out."

George looked around. Everyone except Percy and Auntie Muriel were in the kitchen, and every single person was looking at him, save for Ron who was still staring at Hermione, trying to catch her eye.

"It's nothing." George said after several seconds of silence. A breath that everyone seemed to be holding collectively was let out in a disappointed sigh.

"George," Ginny said quietly. "This is stupid, just tell everyone. Please."

George looked at his only sister. After him, she'd taken Fred's death the hardest of everyone in the family. George knew that Ginny adored all her brothers, but she had a special place in her heart for the twins, who made being the youngest of seven children something fun and exciting. The twins more than any of her other brothers considered her a contemporary and not some little doll that needed protecting. And especially now that she was seventeen and had turned in to quite the skilled witch, quite possibly the most magical member of the family. And knowing what she'd gone through at the hands of the Carrows George found himself actually _respecting_ her. And so, it was because of the look, the pleading look that Ginny gave him, that George found himself opening up to his family.

"I'm gay," he said quietly.

No one said anything for a second. Finally Bill spoke up, "George. That's fine. Really, we're fine with it, right?" He looked at Fleur.

Fleur nodded emphatically. "I know eet might be a beeg deal 'ere. But I can assure you George, that een France, there eez way less, how you say...prejudice against gay wizards."

"Well," Arthur said, clearly wanting to defend Britain, "It's not that bad here either. Most witches and wizards don't care."

"Right," George said. "Most. But not all"

"George," Arthur said. "We just want you to be happy. All right? However you find happiness is fine with me. With all of us, right?"

There was a murmur of consent and nodding heads. "What is this about Neville then?" Molly asked her voice had the slightest quaver to it.

"Oh yeah." George sucked in his breath and held it for a moment before exhaling and saying, "I've been kind of seeing him for the last few weeks."

"They seem quite happy together," Hermione said to everyone brightly. "We just saw them last night. And really, George and Neville are quite good together."

Ginny snickered and everyone smiled at Hermione's pomposity. Even Hermione herself was smiling. The only person left unsmiling was Molly, who was quietly standing there with tears streaming down her face.

"Mum?" George asked.

Molly shook her head, "I'm sorry George. I just need some time to think about this," she brushed past him and went up the stairs to the master bedroom. Everyone could hear the door shut from the kitchen.

"Thanks," George said to Ginny and Hermione sarcastically. "Great advice. Tell everyone." George grabbed his coat and walked out the door and disapparated on the spot.

George was being sucked through space and quickly appeared in front of Neville's Gran's house. He didn't really feel like speaking to Neville's Gran, so he skulked around to the back of the house, hoping to find Neville there. Sure enough, Neville was working by candle light, weeding out the frosty back garden.

"Psst." George called.

Neville looked up and smiled. "George! Do you want to come in for tea?"

George shook his head. "No. Come back to the flat with me. Stay with me tonight."

"All right. Let me get washed up."

"Just meet me there. Apparate right inside the flat, OK? I think some of my family members are probably by the front door waiting for me. So just, apparate, right at my bed like you did the day you passed your exam."

"Is everything all right?"

"No. Just...come."

Neville nodded seriously. "I'll be there in a few."

George turned on the spot and within seconds he was standing in his work room. Sure enough, he heard pounding on the door. "George! Are you in there?" It was Hermione and she sounded like she'd been crying.

"George!" That voice was Ginny's. "Let us in, please."

George tiptoed to his bedroom, which was lit only by the light of the full moon. George went to the window stared out for a few moments. The full moon always reminded him of Remus. He wished Fred would come to him in another dream and this time George would ask if Fred had seen Remus or Tonks. God, he missed those two so much.

_Pop!_ George turned around. Neville was standing there, worried look on his face. "I can hear people knocking on your door."

George nodded. "I'm not talking to them right now."

"Want me to send them away?" Neville asked.

"Really?"

Neville nodded.

"You can try." George lay down on the bed while Neville went to the work room. George could hear everything going on.

Neville yanked the door open. "George said he doesn't want to talk right now."

"Hello, Neville," said a deep voice.

"Hi Mr. Weasley."

"Can you ask him please?"

"Sorry. He'll talk to you later. Just not tonight."

"Neville-" Hermione started, but Neville shut the door before she could get another word in.

Neville went back to George's bedroom. "That's that." Neville smiled when he saw that George had taken his shirt off.

George looked up at him, smile on his face, "My hero," he said, pressing his hands over his heart.

"What was that about?" Neville kicked off his shoes, pulled off his socks and removed his own shirt before climbing in to bed next to George.

"Eh," George said waving his hand like he was pushing something pesky away. "My family found out I'm gay tonight."

"How'd they find out?"

"I told them. It didn't go so well, and I don't really feel like talking about it, if that's OK. I just want shag the hell out of you."

Neville knew George was using sex as an excuse not to talk. But it's not like Neville was going to say no, so he leaned in and touched his lips to George's gently.

If Neville had planned on being gentle to help George's feelings, George had other plans. George grabbed Neville by the back of the neck and pulled him in for a deep bruising kiss. He ground his hips hard into Neville's and Neville pushed back with a soft "oh..."

George began fumbling with the fly on Neville's pants, trying to kiss him at the same time. It was difficult and the two had to separate and quickly shuck the rest of their clothes.

George pushed Neville back on the bed and climbed on top of him. Both of them were excited, as demonstrated when George thrust his hips in to Neville's. Neville grabbed on to the burgundy comforter as George began trailing kisses from Neville's mouth, down his neck and on to his chest.

Neville sighed contentedly while George ran his tongue along the length of Neville's abdominal scar, while pinching Neville's nipples lightly. But Neville had to bite his lip to keep from crying out as George let his tongue wander lower and lower.

Nothing, no amount of guy talk in the Gryffindor common room, no amount of anything Neville could imagine, could prepare him for what it felt like when George first took him into his mouth. Neville could barely keep from thrusting his hips skyward. His eyes were wide open and his breathing became ragged as George worked his mouth up and down the length of Neville's cock.

Something with his tongue. Neville recognized that George was doing something amazing with his tongue, but he couldn't figure out exactly what it was and frankly he stopped trying to even figure it out and just lay back and enjoyed what was happen, what George was doing to him. The familiar build up, and finally Neville moaned, "George....I'm about to come."

George pulled off, to Neville's slight disappointment, and finished Neville off with his hand. Neville came all over his own stomach. While Neville panted and caught his breath, George grabbed his wand to clean Neville's stomach off. Then he lay on top of Neville and kissed him hard.

Neville reached between George's legs and began stroking his cock slowly. Neville pulled out of the kiss. "George. I don't really know what I'm doing," he admitted.

George smiled. "It's all right. Just go for it and I'll tell you if I need something different."

Neville looked incredibly nervous, but he nodded. He pushed George off of him and had him lay face-up on the bed. Neville tried to mimic what he remembered George doing to him. Slowly planting kisses down George's body. While Neville was unsure of himself, George's reaction seemed to be that he was doing all right. Finally, Neville held George's penis, gave it a couple of strokes before taking it into his mouth tentatively. The low moan from George's throat gave Neville a shot of confidence and he began working his mouth up and down, trying to maintain the same rhythm as George's hips. Neville couldn't take all of him, and used his hand to stroke what wouldn't fit in his mouth.

The rhythm became faster, George breathing small encouragements, like "Oh yeah, this is perfect," and not much later he said "I'm going to come!" in a strangled voice. Neville pulled off and finished George with his own hand, though he wondered if he should have attempted to swallow. Not that George seemed to mind. Laying on his bed, spread eagle, staring at the ceiling, and smiling, George seemed the picture of contentment. Obviously Neville had done a good job of taking George's mind off whatever had happened at The Burrow earlier.

Neville lay down next to George and cuddled in hard, kissing him on the temple. George turned his head and smiled, returning the kiss to Neville's lips.

"That was....." Neville whispered trailing off. "God."

George smiled. "It was, wasn't it?" He pulled Neville in for a tighter hug, and the two lay there, silent and wrapped up in each other for several minutes.

Finally Neville broke the silence. "What happened at dinner?"

George sighed and told him the story, while Neville looked sympathetic and rubbed his arms.

"So what are you going to do?" Neville asked.

George shrugged. " I just...I just didn't expect this from my mum. I'll talk to Ron tomorrow. See what happened after I left." George yawned. "I don't want to think about this anymore, all right?"

Neville nodded. "Good night."

George gave Neville one last quick kiss. "Night, Neville."


	9. Chapter 9

**Molly's apology**

1 Molly Weasley woke up the next morning on a mission. She'd behaved terribly the night before, and she knew it. She knew it even as she was escaping the kitchen and she knew it as Arthur came home from George's flat in a fury at her behavior. Last night marked her least-proud moment as a mother. Now she only needed to figure out how to fix it. Being a mother for twenty seven years had taught her that food was always a good start to fixing things.

So Molly began mixing up some biscuits. While she mixed up the biscuits she took a moment to reflect on what had happened the night before.

It wasn't necessarily the fact that George is gay that bothered her so much. She didn't really have any problem with gay people, although she'd never really known anyone who is gay. The problem is that she'd always had certain expectations. And one of her expectations for the twins was that they were going to be her kids who made the best parents. Kids like Fred and George, kids who had a terrific sense of humor and who seemed to maintain a permanent sense of childishness were always the best parents.

Then Fred died, and Molly grieved not only for the loss of her son, but for the loss of his future and the loss of any future grandchildren. She was still grieving and was doubtful she'd ever stop. So last night, when George made his announcement, she felt like she was grieving for the loss of these beautiful future grandchildren that she'd never have. Except that she would, of course, have grandchildren. Bill and Fleur were expecting. She knew Hermione would want children later in life, and she figured Ginny would too. But Fred and George were the two that she really wanted to see become parents, because she knew that they'd be the best at it. They were both so much like Arthur in personality.

And if Molly were to admit something that she didn't want to, it's that she'd secretly harbored a dream that George would fall in love with Angelina Johnson. It was a scenario she'd worked out in her mind one day, and one which she couldn't let go once he'd hired her to help out in the shop. Molly liked Angelina.

Of course, Molly liked Neville too. Ginny had told her that Neville was a rock for her during her sixth year at Hogwarts. When Molly had asked about details, Ginny just shook her head and refused to say anything more. And you couldn't forget the boy's bravery in battle. Anyone who wanted to call gay men sissies needed to do nothing more than take a look at George and Neville who'd fought so hard and taken so many losses so gracefully.

When Arthur came home from trying to talk, unsuccessfully, to George, he was so mad at Molly for what she'd done. And really, Molly couldn't blame him. So she went to bed alone, certain that she'd ruined her relationship forever with George.

She dreamed about Fred. Fred was holding her clock, her special magical clock, and talking to it. She looked at the clock and noticed that it was a little different. The Fred hand was pointing to an area that said _Safe_. There were other hands on the clock now too. Fleur was there, and so was a smaller hand pressed up against Fleur's that said _Victoire_. Who was Victoire? Is that Bill and Fleur's baby? Hermione had a hand, Harry had a hand. Everyone's hands were pointing to _Home_. Everyone's except George's. George's hand was pointing to a word that said, _Hurting_.

Molly listened to Fred talking to the clock. "It's not so much that George is hurting," he was explaining to the clock. "It's that he's a bit angry. Look, clock. You've made a hand for Hermione. You've made one for Harry. Why not one for.." he trailed off. Then Fred smiled, "That's right," and he held up his hand and another clock hand appeared magically in it.

Molly leaned over. The hand read _Neville. _Fred put the hand right on top of the George hand, and immediately both hands moved from _hurting_ right next to Fred's _safe. _

Fred continued to talk to the clock, "If only mum would go here," Fred moved the clock hand that read _Molly_ and pointed it to yet a new location, which read _George's flat_, "she could work this thing out. It's not too late. Mum didn't mean to make anyone feel bad. I know that and you know that. But I don't think George knows it. The only way it'll be all right is for mum to be completely honest with George. He isn't a child anymore."

Molly woke up in a cold sweat, reaching out to try and touch Fred. She knew. She knew what she had to do. She would make things right with George. She had to. She'd do it for Fred. No, it was too late for that. She'd do it for George.

Molly apparated to George's front door. She tried the handle. It was unlocked, not that it would have mattered if it was locked. George had given her a key long ago. Molly walked inside the quiet flat. George was most likely still asleep.

Molly tiptoed to George's room and knocked quietly. There was no sound. She pushed the door open silently and saw George and Neville on the bed. Both boys were lying on their sides, facing each other. They were naked. Or at least Neville was. He was closest to Molly, with his back facing her. A sheet was pulled up to just his hips, just below the start of his buttocks. Molly grimaced to see several long scars, which look like whip scars running down his back. But what really got to Molly was the position the boys were in.

Facing each other, arms interlocked. Molly was sure if she pulled the sheets down, she'd see a tangle of four feet as well.

Molly shut the door and leaned against the wall, tears streaming down her face. It wasn't seeing George in bed like that, naked with another man. That actually didn't concern her at all, in fact, now that she saw it, it seemed quite natural for him. It was the position that they were lying in. Molly remembered so clearly when the twins were two and a half years old and Molly moved them out of one big crib and got them each a bed.

"Now you boys each get your own bed!" She had said to them, trying to get them excited for the prospect of more room to sleep.

It didn't matter. Every morning until they were about eleven years old, Molly would wake them up, and they'd be lying in the same bed, face to face, arms and feet interlocked in the same exact way she'd just seen George and Neville's.

A very clear memory came charging at Molly with sudden ferocity. One morning when the twins were three, she went into their room and found Fred awake but George still asleep. They were in that same position. She disentangled Fred and pulled him to the empty bed with her. He stood on her lap, with some difficulty as she was quite pregnant with Ginny at the time.

"Freddy," she whispered, trying not to wake George. "I've got you and Georgie each your own bed. You don't _need_ to sleep together."

Fred leaned in and hugged her and whispered in her ear. "Yes we do, mummy. It makes us safe at night."

And really, what could she do about it? So she let them sleep like that as long as they wanted to.

_Safe. Neville makes George feel Safe. _Molly told herself. _That's what Fred told me in my dream. _

Molly went to the kitchen and laid the basket of biscuits on the table. She got some marmalade out of the icebox and set it next to the basket. She searched George's cupboards for plates and chose two. She thought about it some and chose a third plate. Then she sat in a chair and waited.

It wasn't long before she heard the sounds of George and Neville waking up. She heard low voices, but couldn't tell what they were saying. One boy went to the bathroom, then back in to the bedroom. Then the other went into the bathroom. After the toilet flushed, they walked into the kitchen together.

"Mum!" George gasped.

"Maybe I should go," Neville said nervously. He crossed his arms over his bare chest. Molly was just grateful that they'd both at least pulled on pants.

"No," George said angrily. "You're welcome here. Mum should go."

Molly held up the basket. "I made biscuits. I want to talk."

George crossed his arms over his chest. "I don't want to talk."

Molly started crying. "Georgie, I'm sorry. I need to explain what I did last night. Please, have a biscuit."

George hesitated before sitting down on the edge of the chair. Neville was still standing in the doorway, unsure if he should interfere with this mother/son moment.

"Go ahead," George said to Molly.

Molly took a deep breath. She explained everything to him. She explained about grieving not only for the loss of Fred but for future grandchildren. She explained that she thought the twins were going to be the best parents of all her children. She told George that parents sometimes have expectations for their kids, and it's an awful thing to do to a kid - saddle them with certain expectations, but all parents do it. And she'd never meant her expectations of Fred and George's potential parenthood to be anything that could tear them apart. She told George about her dream with Fred.

George looked up. "Fred was in your dream?" he asked, his face, which had been blank this whole time, showing sudden interest.

Molly looked taken aback. "Yes. With my clock. He told me to come talk to you. And that Neville makes you feel safe." Molly looked at Neville with an embarrassed smile.

Neville was taking all this in with interest. Neville had spent nearly his whole life aching for the care of a mother. If George let his mother, this fantastic woman who came to admit her mistakes, go without forgiving her, well, he was going to have a real problem with George.

George leaned back in his chair. He looked like he wanted to admit something. It was silent for a few moments before he said something completely unexpected. "I've always thought the wrong twin died."

"What?" Neville asked sharply. He was horrified to hear George saying this. Either twin was the wrong twin.

"George!" Mrs. Weasley admonished.

George shrugged. "I can't give you grandchildren. Fred could have. Fred would have had a nice normal life with a wife and children. I'm an outcast. I'm the gay one."

Mrs. Weasley balked. "George. _No_. That wasn't my point. My point is that I was _wrong_ for feeling that way. For making you pay for my expectations of you. The truth is, I care about _you. _Not about any would-be grandchildren."

George shook his head. "I get what you're saying, Mum. I'm just saying that ever since Fred died, I've felt like it should have been me, not him. But I wasn't quite sure why I felt that way. But you just gave me a reason. Fred could have given more to the family than I can."

"No. No." Molly was insistent. "Don't say that. Don't ever say that again. If it was going to be anyone, it should have been me or your dad. Parents are supposed to die before their children. We should have been there to protect Fred."

"It was war Mum, and Fred was of age. You protected Ginny."

Molly shrugged. "It's true," George insisted. "Mum. Ginny would be _dead_ if it wasn't for you. We all know it."

"So would I," Neville added. "Ginny, Hermione and Luna were fighting Bellatrix. But it was me she wanted. I could feel it. You came in, Mrs. Weasley. You saved my life too. You saved Hermione and Luna's. Not just Ginny's."

George looked at Neville with interest and he turned to his mother. He leaned in and kissed Molly on the cheek. "It's all right, mum. I love you."

Molly looked surprised. "George. Honestly. I don't ever want you to think you should have died in Fred's place. I don't. I've never thought that. Your father has never thought that."

George shook his head. "I understand. I just surprised you yesterday. I think there was no good way of telling you about..." George trailed off and waved his hand vaguely between himself and Neville, "this."

Molly hesitated. "Are you sure? Are you sure you aren't angry with me?"

George nodded emphatically. "Very sure."

Neville, still standing in the doorway, came to the table and sat down gingerly.

George said, "We need to make this up to Ron."

"Make what up?" Molly asked.

"Mum," George said exasperatedly. "Two nights in a row, this announcement about me and Neville completely stole Ron's thunder. He asked Hermione to marry him. Last night should have been about him and Hermione."

"I suppose you're right. I think we'll throw them an engagement party," Molly thought out loud. "Hermione and Ginny just started Christmas break and they don't go back until the third of January." Molly looked up at Neville and George, "Maybe we could do a New Year's Eve party?"

"Mum, that sounds good." George grabbed a biscuit and started chewing. "Mmm. Good," he mumbled handing a biscuit to Neville, who started eating tentatively. "Let us know if we can help."

Molly stood up. "I've got only ten days to prepare for this party!" She started mumbling incoherently as she waved her wand and a quill and parchment flew out of her bag. The quill began taking notes on its own while Neville watched, impressed.

George stood up, "Mum. I've got to open the store soon." He leaned in and kissed her again on the cheek.

Molly stopped in the middle of a sentence and the quill and parchment fell to the floor. She ran a hand over George's cheek. "I'm sorry," she said again. "About last night."

George shrugged. "It's all right. Really, mum. I'm glad you came over."

Molly turned to Neville and smiled. "You're one of mine now," she said.

Neville laughed and hugged her. "I'm glad to be."


	10. Chapter 10

**Torture**

_A/N: Warning: chapter details the torture of Ginny and Neville in flashback. Very M-rated and not for the weak stomach, so please read carefully. _

Ten days can pass in the blink of an eye. And that is just what happened during the ten days following Molly's heartfelt apology to George and Neville.

In that time, there was Christmas, of course. Neville was nervous about Christmas. What type of gift should he get for George? He'd never had a significant other with whom he could share the holiday. Finally, two days before Christmas, he was wandering around Flourish and Blotts, panicked because he hadn't been able to find anything for George when he came across a thin book with a set of cards. _Muggle Magic_, the book was called. Neville flipped through the book, which was all about how muggles use sleight of hand for these card tricks. It was interesting and it seemed like something George would like. He didn't think it was a perfect gift, but he honestly wasn't sure what the perfect gift would be.

Also in that time, George did come over for dinner with Neville and his Gran. It was an awkward time, though Neville appreciated the effort Gran put into making George feel welcome. It was just that George came from a very different family than Neville's small family of just him and Gran. Neville and Gran were quiet and not always overly affectionate. The Weasleys, of course, were big and loud and crazy in love with each other - and not afraid to open displays of affection. Neville loved being at the Burrow, nearly as much as he loved spending time with George at his flat. He was spending so much time away from his Gran that he was beginning to feel guilty.

And so, he chose to exchange gifts with George on Christmas Eve, so that he could have the entire day of Christmas with just his Gran for their annual trip to see his parents at St. Mungo's.

They arrived at St. Mungo's during a blustery snow storm. The streets were dead, muggles not being as well able to travel during such weather. As always, Neville and Gran headed toward the psych unit to the familiar room where his parents lived.

Neville removed his coat because the ward was always kept overly heated. He leaned over his mother. "Hi mum," he said softly. His mother glanced vaguely his way, but didn't make eye contact. Neville sat on a chair next to her bed while Gran went over to see Frank. Usually Neville had trouble talking to his insane mother. He could never think of anything to say except for what the weather is like or what kinds of grades he got in school. But this year, he grabbed on to his mother's hand and started talking, without even thinking about what he was saying. He knew he was babbling, but he was powerless to stop himself.

"I had a really big year, mum. I think you'd be proud of me. Right after getting back to Hogwarts last January, it was terrible. Horrible things going on. And there were these teachers, the Carrows, who worked for you-know-who, and they _hated_ me. Because they knew whose side I was on. They believed that I knew where Harry Potter was, and so they tortured me, mum. They did and I have the scars to prove it. I didn't know though. I didn't know where he was, but even if I did, I wouldn't have talked. I'd remember what happened to you and dad, and I knew I'd never say anything. But it got so much worse. There was a battle and a lot of people died. People I knew and people I loved." Neville started crying now. This was the first time he'd really spoken openly about how he felt.

"I helped though. I did. Harry gave me instructions and when You-know-who was torturing me, trying to burn me alive, I was braver than I thought I could be. I killed this snake. I didn't even know what I was doing, just that Harry had told me it was important to kill the snake. So I did - and do you know what it was? It was a horcrux, it was part of you-know-who's soul. But I don't even care that I was able to help, because so many people had to die.

"I wish you could have been there for me, afterward. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't close my eyes without seeing dead bodies. I couldn't eat without feeling traitorous to everyone who died and couldn't eat anymore. I laid in bed all day and night. Mum, I couldn't do anything. I didn't want to do anything. All I felt was guilt in the pit of my stomach. I wanted to die a thousand times." Neville stopped and sniffed hard.

"Gran tried to help me. I know she did. She was patient. She never yelled at me. She never thought I needed to get over it. But I didn't open up to her. I never told her what I was thinking. I never told her what really happened when I was at Hogwarts my seventh year. I wish you could look, mum. I wish you could just open your eyes and see the marks on my back. I was whipped. The Carrows, they got me and they got Ron Weasley's little sister and they used to chain us up to the wall and whip us. A whip is a muggle weapon. I can't believe they used a muggle weapon on me. Do you see the irony, those muggle-haters using a muggle weapon?

"Do you know what it feels like to be whipped? God, what am I saying? I hope you don't. I know you know what it feels like to be tortured though. If you could just listen to me, I know you'd understand. I know you could make me feel better about this." Neville stopped to sob more into his hands. He could feel his Gran sitting across the room, next to his dad's bed and listening carefully without interrupting him.

Neville grabbed back on to his mother's hand. "So that's what happened to me, in a nutshell. I could go in to more details, but I just can't. I don't think I'll ever be able to.

"But I don't want you to worry about me, mum. Because there's something else I want to tell you. I know we think you can't understand me, but just in case, I need to tell you these things, just like a real son would tell his mother. It's nothing bad, at least not to me it isn't. I wanted to tell you that I'm gay. And I hope that is something that would be all right with you and dad. I've known that I am since I was about twelve years old. Well, really I think I've always known it, but around twelve is when I realized what it was, what it meant.

"And now I've gone and met someone. I think you'd like him. His name is George. He's funny, a real practical joker. But he lost someone in the war. He lost his twin brother and best friend, so he's been having trouble being funny, trouble making jokes. His brother is one of the people I feel guilty about surviving. You'd have no idea what he'd be capable of if only he'd lived. But he didn't and I found George." Neville paused. "I think I might love him, mum."

Neville was quiet for about half a minute, wiping the last of his tears off his face, before starting again on a different topic. "I got a job. I'm going to be working at Hogwarts with Professor Sprout. I'm going to manage the greenhouses and the care of magical plants. Professor Sprout got permission from Professor McGonagall, who is the headmistress now, to expand Hogwarts' plants and I'm going to be a part of it. The pay isn't very much, but I don't have many expenses."

Neville quieted down again. He couldn't really think of anything else to say, so he sat there, patting his mother's hand and trying to make eye contact with her. It was the lack of eye contact that had always bothered him. Like he wasn't even there.

From the corner of his eye, Neville noticed Gran getting up from her seat and walking over to him carefully. "Up," she commanded.

Like the child his Gran often made him feel like, Neville immediately obeyed and stood up. Gran began fumbling with the hem of Neville's shirt. Neville knew what she was doing, but stood rooted to the spot, not helping her. "Lift your arms," Gran said.

Neville lifted his arms and Gran used her wand and an incantation Neville had never heard to remove his shirt. Gran choked back a small cry when she noticed the mark on Neville's abdomen. "Turn around," her voice was shaking now, and she seemed frightened and not at all demanding the way she had been just seconds earlier.

Neville slowly turned around, his scarred bare back facing his Gran. He was unsurprised by the gasp that escaped her lips. She began to cry. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Neville put his shirt back on and shrugged his shoulders. "It's not important."

"It _is." _Gran insisted. "I had a plan Neville. I had an escape plan to get you out of Hogwarts and to hide abroad. But I thought you were _safer_ there. I thought you'd let me know if things got out of hand."

"It doesn't matter," Neville insisted.

"It does. Obviously it matters to you or you wouldn't have brought it up to your mum." A high pitched cry escaped and Gran put her hand to her forehead. "I was supposed to protect you. When I took you in as a baby, all I wanted to do was protect you." Now Gran was sobbing for real. "I'm sorry, Neville. I failed. I failed."

"Gran, no!" Neville assured her. "You didn't fail. Even if I had known about your plan to go in to hiding, I never would have gone with you. I felt...responsible for protecting Ginny. You think my scars are bad? She's a Weasley with a history of dating Harry Potter no less, stuck at Hogwarts. The worst place to be a Weasley or to have connections to Harry. I had to be there with her. If I was with her, in the room where they did it, the Carrow brother, Amycus was his name, he wouldn't...try to _do _things to her." Gran put her hand to her mouth and took a quick breath in.

Neville hoped Gran wouldn't ask for details. He remembered all too well the night that Ginny came in the Gryffindor common room an hour after everyone else had gone to bed, robes torn, hair messy and her face tear-streaked. After a little prompting from Neville, Ginny admitted that Amycus Carrow had followed her out of the library that evening, and forced her into his office and chained her up. Up to this point in the story, Neville was unsurprised. Three weeks earlier, both the Carrows had nabbed him and Ginny for their first torture session. Neville didn't think it'd be the last.

Ginny began hiccuping as she continued her story. Amycus took her wand from her and chained her up. He grabbed his whip and Ginny closed her eyes to prepare herself for the feeling of the whip violating her skin. Instead she felt the movement of her robe and opened her eyes to see Amycus slowly opening her robe in the front. She was wearing a button up shirt underneath and he slowly began unbuttoning the shirt. _Please, let it stop there_, she thought. _Just take them off and whip me_, she begged silently. Once both were open, Amycus grabbed his whip and struck her once across the abdomen, saying "You gonna tell me where your boyfriend Harry Potter's at?" She tried to remain silent, but cried out in pain.

Amycus laughed and used his wand to tear the robe and shirt off her body. He reached around and unhooked her bra. When he realized he couldn't take it off with Ginny's hands chained up, he ripped it violently. He whipped her one more time across the abdomen before dropping the whip to the ground and coming toward Ginny. He grabbed her breasts roughly and kissed her hard on the mouth.

Up to that point, Ginny said that she'd been scared. But feeling violated like this turned that fear in to anger. Ginny used all her strength, gripping her hands on to the chains, and raised her knee hard into Amycus' testicles.

Amycus spluttered and fell back. "You little bitch. You've no idea what you've just done." He pointed his wand at her, shouting _"sectumsempra."_ Fortunately in his rage and pain, Amycus was shaking and managed to just skim the side of Ginny's rib cage with the curse.

Here is the thing about the magic that resides in witches and wizards. Everyone thinks it's most powerful with a wand. But extreme circumstances and extreme emotions, such as anger, can cause a surge in magic not unlike a runner's surge in adrenaline. And a truly powerful witch or wizard, when faced in these extreme circumstances can perform magic without a wand. And so, when Amycus came toward Ginny, his wand pointing to the clasp of her skirt, she shouted "_Protego,_" instinctively.

And it worked. An invisible shield popped up in the inches between herself and Carrow. Amycus looked around. "Who did that?" He asked. "I took your wand, little girl."

When Ginny considered the fact that she'd just done a pretty powerful spell without her wand, she got distracted and dropped her defenses enough so that the protego barrier dropped. Amycus took advantage of the moment of weakness and came at her roughly pushing her skirt up around her waist and thrusting his fingers inside her underwear.

A mistake on his part, as Ginny could feel the magic swelling within her. She could feel the power within her from her toes to the very roots of her hair. Her body tingled with magic, she could feel it flying out her pores. She knew she'd be able to perform any spell without her wand. She looked up at her chains, trying to kick Amycus away, and shouted "_relashio,_" and immediately yanked her hands free of the chains. "_Accio wand,"_ she held out her hand and her wand came flying into her hands. As soon as her hand made contact with the wand, Ginny was nearly knocked down by a strong jolt of magic. She could barely grip the wand it was vibrating with such strong magical force. She didn't know what to do with this amount of power, but pointed the wand directly at Amycus' body and without uttering an incantation, a strong golden bolt leapt from the end of the wand and struck Amycus in the gut, sending his body flying back and hitting the wall. He slumped to the floor.

Ginny grabbed her clothes, nudged Amycus with her foot - he was still alive- just knocked out, and ran to the nearest bathroom. She was in there for over an hour, crying and shaking and waiting for Amycus to come find her. Finally, she dressed and left, hoping to find the Gryffindor common room empty, but finding Neville there instead.

"I'll kill him," Neville had said roughly when Ginny finished her story. He stood up suddenly and grabbed his wand.

"What good would _that _do?" Ginny asked bitterly pulling Neville back down on the couch..

Neville paused. She was right. All it would do was land him in Azkaban. And he'd be no good to anyone, especially to Ginny, in Azkaban. Still, Ginny had nearly been raped, and he couldn't let go of the desire to kill Amycus. He took a deep breath attempting to transform his rage, his desire to kill, into something more positive. A way to protect Ginny.

"I'm not leaving your side," Neville said. "Amycus knows what you're capable of now, so I expect you're safe from him. But if they're going to torture us, they're going to torture us together, all right?"

Ginny nodded.

"That means we walk to classes together, we study together in the library, we eat meals together. I wait for you outside the bathroom. Let me in there with you if no one's around. I'll find boys' rooms that are empty and you come in with me, all right? We are going to go through this together. You can even sleep in one of the empty beds in my dorm. It's just me and Seamus up there now, so there're three empty beds."

Ginny thought carefully. "I think you're right. We're stronger together."

Neville shook his head. "Ginny, you are strong alone. You did really powerful magic without a wand. Do you know how rare that is?"

Ginny shrugged. "I couldn't do it again if you asked me to."

"I hope you never have a reason to need to do it again."

Ginny ignored that. "I need to treat my wounds."

Neville raised his wand, "_Accio apocatheria,_" and out of his dorm flew the travel apocathery kit he'd gotten for Christmas. He opened it up, looking at the different herbs and potions. "I can do it."

Ginny hesitated. "I think I should do it myself," she crossed her arms in front of her chest.

It took Neville a minute to realize why Ginny was hesitant. She didn't want to remove her shirt in front of him. Neville took a deep breath. "Ginny," he said gently, "I'll be able to reach the wounds better than you can on yourself."

She didn't look convinced and honestly, Neville couldn't blame her. She'd just been violated and all she'd need is someone else ogling her. "Ginny," he continued softly. "I'm going to tell you something that I've never told anyone. And what I want you to forget as soon as I tell you." She looked up at him, her eyes were wide and starting to fill with tears again. Neville leaned in close and whispered into Ginny's ear, "I'm gay."

Ginny gasped and pulled back. "Neville?" she asked.

"Don't tell anyone. Act surprised if it happens to come up later?"

"All right," Ginny agreed. She eyes seemed to lose focus as she pulled open her robes and unbuttoned her shirt. In her haste to leave Amycus Carrow's office, she'd forgotten her bra.

Neville looked at Ginny's naked torso. "Which is the sectumsempra?" Ginny pointed to the long mark on the side of her rib cage going up her left breast.

Neville knew to start with that wound. As a magical wound, it would heal with the magical potions. The whips were a muggle tool, and as such magical cures were much less effective. All Neville could do for those were cool the wound with essence of magical mint for pain relief and wrap her in bandages.

Ginny was still shaken, but seemed calmer once she had Neville's caring hands cleaning and trying to heal her wounds. And so, it was nearly three in the morning before the two friends headed up to the boys' dormitory to try and get the best night of sleep they could.

True to her word, Ginny never said anything to anyone about Neville. So much to the point, that Neville would occasionally forget he'd ever mentioned it to her. And as Neville looked back on a few nights earlier, when he and George came out to Ginny, Harry, Ron and Hermione, Neville smiled to remember Ginny focusing her attention on learning that George is gay.

Back in the present, Gran asked, "What did they do to Ginny?"

"I can't talk about it Gran. Really. She wouldn't want me to."

"Did you take care of her?"

Neville nodded. "But Gran, she's so strong. Stronger and more magical than I am. She didn't really need it."

"But she needed a friend," Gran said.

Neville nodded.

"I failed because I never told you how proud I am of you." Gran started crying again.

Neville hugged his Grandmother. "It's OK, Gran. I know."


	11. Chapter 11

Molly really outdid herself for Ron and Hermione's New Year's Eve / engagement party. She must have felt terrible about her behavior, because she really went above and beyond.

Of course, it helped that Arthur was back at the ministry, in a higher position and that they only had one child left at home, giving the Weasley parents more money to spend than they'd ever had before. And Molly didn't spare expense when it came to quickly setting up this party. Invitations were magically written and sent by a team of owls to the entire Weasley family, Ron and Harry's friends from Hogwarts, Hermione's friends from Hogwarts, and even to Hermione's muggle parents.

Molly rented a tent, not unlike the magical pup tent Harry and Ron had taken the prior year on their journey. Only this one was slightly larger and was enchanted on the inside to look like a ballroom. It was a plain ballroom, though and Molly went to work erecting extra fireplaces (it _was_ cold and snowy after all), tables, chairs, and decorations which looked festive and wintry. Twinkling faeries spelt out _Congratulations Ron and Hermione_ in a living sign that moved from wall to wall.

The party being planned at the last minute, Molly wasn't able to hire a caterer. She spent ten days frantically preparing food and drinks. Fleur, Neville, Ron, Hermione, Harry and Ginny helped all they could, but were faced with the task of meeting Molly's expectations. And when it came to cooking, no one had expectations like Molly.

"I'd rather not even _have_ this party if I have to put up with this," Ron grumbled one day as he tossed a lumpy bowl of dough outside for the birds and gnomes to fight over. Molly complained it was too lumpy and wouldn't make proper bread. "Who still hand makes bread anyway? We can just buy it from the store."

"Ronald," Hermione admonished him. "You always complain about store bought bread. Your mum is doing this for you. For _us._"

"But _I _don't know how to make the bread."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's called reading a simple recipe," she snapped.

"Why are you so bent out of shape?" he asked.

"Because after I graduate and we get married, I'm going to be working and starting a career. So I hope you don't expect homemade bread every day like you grew up with."

"Oh." Ron was quiet for a minute. "I don't expect that." But it sounded like this was news to him. Neville smiled inwardly as he continued peeling potatoes. It had always struck him that Ron never knew that, despite coming from one of the poorer wizarding families, he was really quite spoiled in many ways. Harry and Neville, two parentless children, had always been able to see clearly how rich Ron really was.

Neville, still unemployed, volunteered his services to Molly. His reasons for doing so were partially genuine (he really did want the party to be successful for Ron) but partially it was an attempt to get on Molly's good side. He felt awkward around her since she'd come over to George's a few mornings prior. In a way, Neville felt that her being there when he woke up in the same bed as her son, she'd witnessed an intimate moment.

So he'd spent several afternoons at the Burrow, put to work weeding the frosty garden, pulling all edible plants from it, peeling potatoes, beating curtains, fixing loose steps and anything else Molly could think that needed doing around the house. Though Molly was definitely kind to him, she had not yet developed the same easy motherly manner that she had with Harry and Hermione. _Time_ Neville kept telling himself, _Give her time._

George couldn't believe that Neville was willing to give up his time to help around the Burrow. "You don't _have_ to do it," he'd said the night after Christmas when Neville got back to the flat. "No one expects it from you."

Neville shrugged. "I don't mind," he said simply. "You have the shop. I'm unemployed. I want to help."

"Mum's a slave driver," George warned.

Neville shrugged again. It'd always bothered him to hear people complain about their mothers. "I like your mum," he said quietly.

George got it, right away. It hit him suddenly what Neville must feel like every time someone complains about their mother. "I'm sorry," he pulled Neville onto the bed, enveloping him in a hug. "You're right," he buried his face in Neville's neck, "My mum's great."

New Year's Eve arrived. Neville stood rooted in front of his closet at his house staring at his robes. He wondered what the dress protocol should be. Regular robes? Dress robes? Muggle clothes? Neville, like most wizards under the age of forty, didn't like wearing robes and mostly wore jeans and T-shirts. (_Muggle clothes _the old witches and wizards called it derisively.) Nicer trousers and a knit shirt if the occasion called for something nicer than denim. Why hadn't he talked to George about this?

Finally Neville settled on dress trousers and a button up dress shirt. He didn't care that much, he just wasn't willing to wear robes. He ran downstairs where Gran was polishing his shoes, tapping her wand on the shoes over and over until she could see her reflection.

"Thanks," Neville said taking the shoes from her, failing to care that he didn't actually _like_ it when his shoes were so shiny and reflective, and started to lace them up. "Are you sure you won't come?" Molly had decided to invite Gran, as a way to get to know her better.

"No, dear," Gran said. "My arthritis is acting up."

Neville nodded, and looked at his Gran critically. Certainly she was elderly. She'd been older when she'd had his dad, and his dad had been well into his thirties when Neville was born. There was no mistaking that her body was starting to slow down, though her mind was as active as it'd ever been. Still, Neville worried about her and made it a point not to spend too many nights at George's flat so he could check in on her.

"I won't be home late," he promised.

Gran waved her hand. "It's New Year's Eve," she said happily. "Have a good time and I won't worry about you unless I don't see you by late tomorrow."

Neville laughed, "Are you sure?"

"Did I ever tell you about New Years Eve when I was nineteen?"

Neville laughed again, "No Gran. Is this something I want to know about you?"

"Probably not. I was a wild one in my day."

Neville kissed her on the cheek and walked out the door and disapparated to the Burrow.

He stood just feet from the entrance of the Burrow, listening to the loud music already pulsating from the tent. Someone was playing a Weird Sisters phonograph. Neville heard a noise behind him and turned around curiously to see a car pulling up next to the Burrow. He realized at once it must be Hermione's parents, the only ones who'd be arriving by muggle transport.

Sure enough, Hermione stepped out the back door, just as an older woman who looked astonishingly like Hermione stepped out the passenger door and a tall skinny man got out from the driver's side. Neville was relieved to see Hermione had also foregone the robes. "Neville," Hermione called, waving to him.

"Hermione," he leaned in and kissed her on the cheek.

"This is my mum, Dr. Jean Granger and my dad, Dr. Owen Granger,"

Neville shook their hands. He's hardly ever had any contact with Muggles and wasn't quite certain what a doctor was. "Pleasure."

"Mum and Dad, this is Neville Longbottom. He was in my class at Hogwarts and he's dating one of Ron's brothers."

"Her_mi_one," Neville said, exasperated. Just as Dr. Owen repeated Neville's line of "Pleasure."

"What?" she asked innocently.

"Can I ask you not to out me and George to _every_one?"

"Oh, is it still a secret?"

"Yes!" Neville said defiantly. "It is!" Hermione's parents were blushing deeply.

Neville walked into the tent with Hermione and her parents, her parents looking quite surprised at seeing a large ballroom appear in front of them. He quickly pulled her aside.

"Hermione. You owe George an apology."

"What? Why? Everything worked out."

"But it might not have. You can't go poking your nose in other peoples' business like that. George gets to decide who he tells and when he tells, all right? This whole thing with him. With me and him, it's so new. You need to stay out of it for now."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't tell me, tell George."

Neville looked around. Where was George? Neville wandered around the party, nibbling on delicious food from the long table he'd set up just the day prior. He couldn't believe the spread. Even with help, Molly had really outdone herself.

Neville looked around and waved and chatted with a few others. Harry, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan, Luna, Mr. Lovegood, the Patil twins, Lee Jordan (who remarked, embarrassingly loudly, "the guy who's going to get Georgie Weasley to settle down!"), Bill and Fleur, Percy with Penelope Clearwater, Hagrid, Professor McGonagall, and Tonks' mother with little Teddy whose hair was looking rather purple these days. (Neville felt a connection with little Teddy Lupin, knowing full well what it was like to be raised by a single Grandmother). Plus countless others that Neville didn't recognize. This was clearly the place to be on New Year's Eve.

Finally, Neville spotted George walking in with Ginny. Neville started to walk toward him, but he saw Hermione grab George and pull him back outside. Neville was impressed. He didn't think Hermione'd ever be able to admit she was wrong and actually apologize.

When George got back in, he headed straight for Neville. "Let's grab some food," he said.

They stacked their plates with roast beef baguettes, salmon rolls, treacle tarts and everything else Molly had made. George guided Neville to a table in a corner, where no one else was. "Let's sit here,"

Neville sat. He and George were quiet for a moment, chewing their food. "Ginny talked to me," George finally said quietly.

"Mmm-hmm?" Neville asked taking a sip of butterbeer.

"She told me."

"About what?"

"About Amycus Carrow."

"Oh. That." Neville was quiet.

"You saved her."

Neville shook his head. "I didn't. She didn't need saving. She saved herself. George, do you have any idea how powerful a witch she is?"

"She's a seventh child. Seventh children are always extra powerful."

"Really?" Neville had never heard that before.

George nodded. "Families aren't so big nowadays, so you don't see as much of it. And a lot of people don't know it anymore. But yeah, a seventh child always has special powers. Fourteenth children do too." He paused. "All multiple of seven, actually, so twenty-first children do too, but that's only ever really been the case like once in wizarding history."

"Huh. Interesting."

"Anyway, that's not how I meant it. You _saved_ her."

"I didn't do anything but make her stay with me at all times. Until we started making camp in the Room of Requirement."

"You were her friend. You were there with her and that's what she needed."

"Really, George. I didn't do much."

"She just told me that if it wasn't for you, she would have hunted down Carrow and tried to kill him."

"But she stopped me from doing just that."

"And stopping you stopped _her _from doing it also." George hesitated and softened his voice. "She also told me she was suicidal, but you just being there kept her from doing anything about it."

"She was what?" Neville was shocked.

George nodded. "She said she even stole a Tschiffely plant from the greenhouse."

Neville sucked his breath in. Tschiffely was extremely useful for tanning dragon hides, but was instantly fatal if ingested. It was, sadly, the most common form of wizarding suicide. Students weren't even allowed in that area of the greenhouse. Thinking back, he actually knew when Ginny stole it. They were in Herbology class and Neville had stayed after to talk to Professor Sprout. Because he and Ginny were sticking together, Ginny waited for him, but was wandering around the greenhouse. Neville had seen her in the restricted section, but hadn't though anything of it, And neither had Professor Sprout, who didn't lecture Ginny. "I didn't know I was saving her," Neville explained to George. "I _like_ Ginny, you know? I just wanted to be there for her."

"Thank you," George said.

"For what?"

"For my sister," George rolled his eyes at Neville not realizing what he was being thanked for.

"You're welcome."

They continued eating and George finally said in a cheerful voice. "Well! That was serious."

Neville laughed. "Let's lighten the mood then," he said.

"All right," George agreed and took a shot of firewhiskey, and handed one to Neville who downed it quickly. "Move in with me."

"What?" Neville asked, shocked, and coughing on his firewhiskey.

"Move in with me. Move into my flat. Let's live together," he explained.

"We've been together, like, two months."

"So?" George asked.

"Well it's awfully fast."

"Can I get serious for one more second?" George asked.

"Sure."

"I love you."

"You what?"

"You heard me. I love you." He paused. "Look, I'm not Mr. Romantic and I'm not big on hearts and flowers and all that bullshit, so don't make me say it over and over again, all right? I. Love. You. I do and I want you to know it."

Neville laughed. "You're an idiot."

Now George was laughing. "What?"

"I love you too, all right?" Neville answered, blushing furiously.

"I knew it," George leaned over and pinched Neville's arm. "I _knew_ you loved me. I knew it from the way you can't keep your hands off me."

"Ow!" Neville held his arm where George pinched it. "I think that's the other way around, friend. You can't keep _your _hands off _me._"

George was still laughing when he said, "See? We love each other. We should live together."

Neville shrugged, "Maybe."

"Come on...why not?" George wheedled.

Neville felt the heat in his face as his face reddened a deep shade. "I..." he croaked. He had _no_ idea how to say what he needed to say.

"What?" George prompted.

"We haven't even..." Neville waved his hands vaguely between their bodies as he drifted off. George still looked blank, so Neville tried again. "We haven't even really had a proper shag yet. Have we?" He closed his eyes, horrified at how much he knew he was blushing. He knew he shouldn't have been embarrassed, because really, once you've had someone else's cock in your mouth, what else is there to be embarrassed about?

"Ahhh." George said, nodding his head. "So we're laying in bed at night, nearly every night for the past month or two, and fooling around and you want more, but you don't think to ask for it?"

Neville knew George was teasing. But he still felt the need to defend himself. "I've never _done_ this before. I don't know how long it's supposed to take before it happens. I mean, how long before you shagged Oliver?"

"I was an early bloomer," George answered.

"How long George?"

"It's not going to make you feel any better."

"How long?"

"Pretty much right when we both realized the other was in to it. My fourth year. Oliver's sixth."

"God." Neville said. "God! You were fourteen!" Neville shook his head. "I'm so stupid when it comes to this. I'm nineteen, all right? You were fourteen and you jumped right into it with Oliver. Why're you waiting so long with me?"

"Look, Nev. Oliver was just a...a nothing. We weren't in some kind of relationship, all right? We were just messing around. He wanted to mess around with birds _and_ blokes, but he only wanted to _date_ the birds."

"So?"

George sighed. "Look, you say you're new to this, but so am I! I've never done the boyfriend thing, all right? I've done the making out with Oliver thing, the shagging Oliver thing. But I don't _know_ when it's the proper time to shag a boyfriend."

"So we're both idiots about this then," Neville said.

"Exactly."

"Well, that's a relief." Neville said, and George laughed.

"So let's do it."

"Move in together? George, I don't know. My Gran needs me."

"No. I meant shag. Let's do it."

"Now?" Neville looked around.

"Yeah now." George insisted. "Not _here_, obviously. But now. Let's go."

"But the party..."

"They'll be fine without us. Come on. I always wanted to get laid in my childhood bedroom."

"Oh." Though Neville was a bit nervous, he had a sudden surge of boldness as he said, "Yeah, let's go." He drained his butterbeer and followed George running and laughing out of the tent into the cold night.


	12. Chapter 12

"So this is your childhood room then?" Neville asked looking around.

"Yeah. Mum and dad haven't really touched it since Fred and I moved out."

Neville wandered around. It was a small room, not much bigger than his room at Gran's, but with twice the amount of stuff. Two beds separated by a large chest of drawers. Two desks lined the wall opposite the beds. One small closet so crammed with clothes and boxes that the door didn't even shut. Walls papered with posters of Quidditch teams, the movement of the players on brooms creating a dizzying effect of the walls moving. The top of the chest was filled with framed photographs of the Weasley family. Neville looked at the photos and his throat caught to see that the most well-dusted photo was of Fred. Clearly Molly Weasley came in here especially to look at that photo. Neville cleared his throat and turned around. "Which bed was yours?"

"This one," George sat down on the bed farthest from the door and bounced up and down a couple times. "Come here," he patted the bed next to him.

Neville sat down next to George, his palms slightly sweaty from nerves. "So this is where Weasley's Wizard Wheezes began."

"A truly historical site," George nodded.

Neville smiled and pressed his hands between his knees.

"Are you nervous?" George asked.

"No." Neville said. Then quickly, "Well, yes."

"We don't have to do this yet. There's no rush."

"I want to," Neville reassured him. "I just..." he faltered. "Are you sure we have privacy?"

George grabbed his wand and pointed it at the door. The door shut, locked and Neville saw it magically seal from the inside. "No one's getting in here, Neville."

It wasn't really the privacy issue. Neville wasn't sure why he was so nervous. He'd been to bed with George plenty of times. It was just this part. The actual sex was, like the final frontier in a relationship that, truthfully, was pretty new.

Neville kicked off his shoes and stretched out on the bed. George smiled and took his shoes off also. "Are you sure about this?" He asked.

Neville nodded. "I'm sure." He stared at the ceiling as George sat down on the bed next to him and gently took his hand. "Is it going to hurt?" Neville felt himself blush and he wanted to die with embarrassment at how much like a little kid he sounded.

George paused. "Probably, at first." He played with Nevillle's fingers. "I'll go slow, and do whatever I can to keep it from hurting too bad."

"Come here then," Neville said shakily and pulled George toward him. George lay down next to Neville and kissed him gently on the mouth. Neville reached up and ran his fingers through George's fiery red hair.

George leaned in and kissed Neville on the neck, right on the pulse point, and when he bit a little, it elicited a small "oh," from Neville. A sound which obviously turned George on, as he smiled and climbed on top of Neville, sinking his hips into Neville's.

Neville relaxed. The feeling of George, this feeling of having George with him felt so _natural._ It was stupid, really, for Neville to worry about how fast their relationship had been moving, The fact was, that he felt like he was at home when he was with George. He felt comfortable and happy and warm. So why _not _share a home with George?

George had slipped Neville's shirt off and was kissing his chest. When he started sucking nipple and stuck his hand down Neville's trousers at the same time, Neville gasped and bucked his hips upward instinctively. He would never get sick of the feeling of George's hand around him, stroking.

Neville reached up with shaky hands and began unbuttoning George's shirt. It was awkward and George had to stop what he was doing to get in a better position to help Neville out. "Screw this," he finally muttered and stood up, taking his shirt off quickly, then unbuttoning his trousers and removing them. Neville smiled and removed his own trousers and boxer shorts. When they were both naked, George jumped back on to the bed, laughing.

It hurt less than Neville feared, but it certainly wasn't comfortable at first. George was so careful, so gentle with him. George used a lube charm (_How does he know about these spells?_ Neville wondered) to slick his fingers and try to work Neville loose. Then he used the same charm on his cock as he pressed as carefully as possible into Neville. Neville gasped and tried hard to relax, attempting to concentrate all his anxiety and fear into his hands, which were gripping the bedspread so tightly his knuckles were turning white.

"Is this all right?" George asked in a strained voice.

"It's fine," Neville reassured him, his voice equally strained.

"We can stop."

"No!" Neville said quickly. "I want this." And he did. All of a sudden, the pain, the discomfort didn't matter. Because he was sharing this very important part of himself with George. With the man he'd fallen in love with faster than he would have thought possible.

George smiled and thrust into Neville several times, each time burying himself a little deeper in Neville's body. Neville was taking deep breaths, willing himself to relax and after a few minutes, it worked, he was relaxed enough to be able to enjoy the feeling, the sensation, of being filled by George. He bucked his hips slowly, creating a rhythm for George to follow. George reached down and stroked Neville's hard cock as he followed the rhythm.

It was so good, getting lost in Neville. Fred had been right in those dreams. This was the reason Fred wanted George to talk to Neville. Because George needed something like this, something to share with another person, a man he could love.

"I can't last," Neville whispered, "Ah!" He spilled over himself, hot and sticky. When he came, he involuntarily tightened up, putting pressure on George's cock.

George thrust once more, as deeply as he could go, causing Neville to gasp in shock, and himself to come hard with a loud moan.

The two men lay in bed for a few moments, breathing hard, trying to catch their breath. George pulled back and pulled out of Neville and lay down next to him, cuddling in tight. George kissed Neville's shoulder, "How was that?" he murmured.

Neville turned his head and met George's eyes. He smiled, "Mmmm," and he leaned in and kissed George hard on the mouth.

George kissed back before pulling away slightly and leaning his forehead on Neville's. "I guess that's good then."

"_Very_ good," Neville agreed.

They lay there, quietly wrapped in their own thoughts. Finally Neville asked softly, "Are you happy?"

"Happy how?"

Neville sat up. "In general, are you happy?"

George thought hard. "I'm working on it, Nev. I'm not _un_happy, which is an improvement over how I was right after Fred died. This whole thing with him dying and me living? It's like...It's a process. And it's a long way to go between 'complete and total near suicidal unhappiness' and 'blissful happiness.' I'm working on it."

"Fair enough."

"It's you, Neville. You've made me happier."

Neville looked at George seriously. "George, I could barely even get out of bed until that day I saw you in the shop. You have no idea how happy you've made me."

"This is getting a little serious again," George warned.

Neville laughed. "I know, I'm sorry."

George shrugged. "I guess Fred really knew what he was talking about in my dreams, huh? He told me to talk to you for a reason."

"Well, good on Fred then," Neville leaned in for another kiss. They kissed and cuddled for a few more minutes before George pulled back with a sigh.

"We should probably get back to the party."

"Yeah," Neville agreed. Neither one moved. They laughed a little before pushing themselves up off the bed and slowly got dressed.

"The moving in thing?" George said. "You can take your time thinking about it if you need to."

"I want to." Neville said, realizing suddenly that he truly meant it.

"Really?" George seemed surprised and happy.

Neville nodded. "I just worry about Gran," Neville bit his fingernail. "But I can go over there lots to check in on her, right?"

"Whatever you need," George reassured him and took his hands. "We're really gonna do this?"

"Yeah," Neville nodded. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

Neville and George held hands as they walked down the stairs of the Burrow, and into the chilly December 31st air. Back to where their friends and family had just started noticing that the two were missing. When they walked into the tent together, relaxed and happy, some of their friends exchanged knowing looks with each other about what the two had been up to. Not that Neville and George noticed, and not that they would have cared if they had noticed.

Because that's how new love is. It's feeling heady and exuberant and wanting to shout your love to the world. It's being wrapped up in each other and the rest of the world falling away. It's the love that makes the bad things in life seem bearable and the good things in life that much sweeter.

They danced and ate and drank the rest of the night. And when the clock struck midnight, Neville and George were among the revelers lucky enough to have someone else to share a kiss with. This New Year started out much happier and far more hopeful than the last one had. As Neville and George broke apart from their kiss, long after all the other couples had, they were both giddy with the feeling that this new year was going to bring good tidings and happiness, something that both of them deserved.

_Fin._


End file.
